


Never Solivagant

by LoyalToTheFreaks



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alex in denial about his sexuality, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Bisexual Alexander Hamilton, Bisexual Eliza Schuyler, Dad Friend Hercules Mulligan, Demisexual Hercules Mulligan, Depression, Don't Read This, Drugs, Eventual Smut maybe, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Gay John Laurens, Hamilsquad, Henry Laurens' A+ Parenting, Homophobia, How Do I Tag, I'm Sorry Lin-Manuel Miranda, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Internalized Homophobia, Lams - Freeform, Lesbian Peggy Schuyler, M/M, Marliza, Mental Instability, Nicknames, Pansexual Marquis de Lafayette, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Racism, Sexism, Swearing, The Schuyler Sisters, constant pov switching im sorry, everyone is a little bit traumatized, everyone is sad, i mean i can try, im asexual kill me, im going to hell, lamilton, lesbian maria reynolds, like a lot of swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-04-17 03:38:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 37,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14179701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoyalToTheFreaks/pseuds/LoyalToTheFreaks
Summary: After writing his way out of godforsaken Nevis, Alexander Hamilton wants to create a new life in New York City after being offered a scholarship to Columbus University. His plan was to go to school, graduate, and change the world with his writing. However, there were a lot of unexpected complications to go with it. Making friends and enemies was not part of the plan, much less was falling in love with a depressed, cartoons, turtles and art-loving, trilingual, Puerto Rican, social activist. MUCH much less.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my humiliation :)  
> This is my first fanfiction; I've been really into Hamilton for about a year now, and I thought it would be fun to try giving fanfic a go, after reading and admiring other works. My favourite colour is blue. Have a nice day. By the way, I don't have much plan for actual plot, so I'm not sure where this story's gonna go, therefore I wouldn't reckon expecting too much from me. This is just for fun and experimentation. :)

Alexander loved to write.

It wasn’t just a ‘writing is my hobby’ kind of love, or even a ‘writing is my passion!’ kind of love. It was a full-time, absolutely necessary, obsession (some may even go as far as to call it an addiction), _I will literally drop dead where I stand if I don’t get to write_ kind of love. It was a relationship that never wavered or faltered, Alexander and his thousands of documents of writing, and thousands of more ideas that never stopped coming. He and the computer, or pen, depending on his mood, were inseparable.

He had never encountered any challenges when writing, stray from several minor writer’s block moments, which passed rather quickly. He could always express himself freely and execute any ideas onto his canvas with ease. The words just flowed from his fingertips relentlessly, and he was proud of it. He worked tirelessly and hard. Alexander was confident in his work ethic (some would just call it borderline arrogant) and he _knew_ he was talented. He hadn’t any self-doubt when it came to his writing. That was how he got off that damn island, after all.

Alexander would write about anything and everything. To stories on the news, to personal topics, to short novels he’d come up with on the spot—the only limitation he faced was his imagination, his body’s physical resolve and the unfairly small amount of time he and the other seven billion people on earth were permitted.

He often published his works, and there was no bigger ego boost than the positive feedback he received in return. But in the deepest depths of Alex’s mind, he didn’t just write because he wanted to—hell, even because he _needed_ to. He wrote to kill his past self.

His past self, who grew up on less than friendly and funded Nevis. Who laboured from the age of ten, after his father left him, his mother and brother James for dead—Alexander had sworn to never take his father’s name, so Alexander Faucette he was. Who starved every night, surviving barely on the scraps his mother could afford, and froze in the cold of night. Who watched as his sick mother died while holding him close. Who walked in on the lifeless body of his cousin who supported him and James after they were orphaned. Who had survived the massive hurricane that was not short of obliterating the island and wipe thousands of lives off the earth—including James.

Alexander wrote because it was all he had. He was alone.

But when he wrote, he didn’t feel so alone. His own words brought him a familiar comfort, because in his writing, he could still be on Nevis with his mother and brother, and they could be eating feasts every night, and watch the stars from inside their warm, quaint home. When he indulged his words, Alex wasn’t alone.

Alexander’s writings were his home.

And it just so happened that his home had been just the thing to free him from Nevis. He would write forever, and he knew it.

 

***

 

Alex was pissed.

He was stood in front of the bursar’s office, and being denied entry to the damn university that of which he’d earned a scholarship. All because the idiotic girl behind the counter refused to take the enormous wad of cash he’d pathetically attempted to stuff into an overflowing envelope.

Well, he wasn’t being _denied entry_ , per say. He was being told to come back later because the ‘systems were down’, or so she said. In Alex’s opinion, the girl seemed more interested in her phone than helping him out.

“This is your job!” he had insisted. “I need you to take the tuition so I can take my shit to my dorm! Hell, I don’t even have my dorm number yet!”

“Look, sir, until the computers are online, there’s nothing I can do,” she responded dully, like she’d rather be anywhere else in the world. _Damn this technology that humanity depends on so desperately, nowadays_ , he thought to himself, knowing fully well he was equally as reliant on said damn technology.

“Pinchazo hastiado,” he spat angrily. He immediately regretted his vulgar language and apologized profusely to the girl who stared at him blankly. _Thank god she doesn’t speak Spanish._ “I’m sorry, there’s absolutely nothing that can be done?” he asked again for good measure. Not that he expected the answer to be any different than the first four times he’d asked, but the only person here who seemed to be getting more annoyed than himself was the bursar, and he couldn’t admit to being particularly distressed about that. Quickly, he pulled the pen from his worn, green hoodie pocket and scribbled onto his hand, _Columbus University bursars fucking suck._

“I’m afraid not. The systems will be up and running tomorrow, though, so you should come in then. For now, just bring your things up to your dorm and get all settled in.” After having insulted her, Alex had internally decided to be nicer to the bursar. Even just by a little.

“I already told you, I haven’t got my dorm room yet.”

“Then I suggest you do that! Find the main lobby, and give the receptionist your name and they’ll hook you up.” And with that, the girl pulled down the blinds to keep the small office from prying eyes. Alex was alone in the room, with nothing but his backpack slung over his shoulder, his sleeping bag and his money that he reflexively shoved into his pocket as he stalked out the door angrily, muttering under his breath.

The walk across campus was swift and should have been relaxing. The sky was cloudy, and there was a cool breeze—the perfect weather, in his opinion. But him? Alexander Faucette? _Relax?_ Hell would freeze over before he would wllingly take a break. He spent the short walk fluctuating from feeling bad about calling the bursar such a rude thing to wishing she spoke Spanish.

He burst into the lobby, accidentally slamming the door in the process and emitting a small shriek from the receptionist.

“Shit! Sorry!” he immediately apologized, and realized that he had said _sorry_ more in one day than he had in over a years’ time.

“Oh, it’s okay,” the girl breathed, obviously still a little dazed. “Quite the entrance, you made there!”

She was shorter than he was, which was clear even when she was sitting down, and had soft brown skin, poofy hair that was haphazardly thrown into a bushy ponytail and warm eyes. Her nails were also an aesthetically pleasing combination of yellows and pinks, which corresponded very well to her yellow sundress. On both arms, there was an abundance of colourful bracelets that even from the room’s length away, Alexander could tell held sentimental value. “Are you here to sign in?”

“I am,” Alexander confirmed, shuffling over to the desk. “What’s your name?”

The girl seemed a little taken aback for a moment, before giggling. “That’s supposed to be _my_ job! Why do you want to know _my_ name?”

“You seem nice,” Alex replied with a grin, “and I like knowing people’s names so I don’t have to just shout ‘hey you!’ whenever we’re acquainted. I’d feel less rude.”

The girl laughed before offering her hand to Alex, which he happily accepted. “I’m Peggy. Well, technically my name is Margarita, but nobody calls me that. You are not an acception, so call me Peggy. You’re the first person to ask me my name today after all the hundreds of students who’ve registered today, so I think we should be friends! Also very much a lesbian, so no more than friends, thanks. Oh my gosh, I’m rambling! I’m sorry, I still have to sign you in, and I’m going on about being friends and I don’t even know your name!”

Alex chuckled—he liked Peggy. “My name is Alexander Faucette,” he said as automatically and confidently as if it had been rehearsed a hundred times in a mirror. Probably because it had.

Peggy's hands magnetically flew to the keyboard, her fingers typing away nowhere near as fast as Alex knew he could. Several clicks of the mouse later, and she was leaning into the screen, as if something were confusing her.

“Is there a problem?” Alexander asked nervously.

“Yeah, uh, I can’t seem to find an Alexander Faucette in the systems,” she replied. “You _did_ apply, right?”

“Of course!” he exclaimed, even though the situation made him doubt himself, despite rechecking his application for perfection more times than he could count on both hands. “Did you try refreshing it?”

“Twice. I’m not sure what’s going on, Alex... I can call you Alex, right?”

Then it hit him—when the university had contacted him, they had addressed him as _Alexander Hamilton_ . His _father’s_ name. Not his mother’s. Likely because his father was still alive, probably. It had angered him more than he cared to express to them, because they were going to be the source of his higher education, but he was _sure_ he corrected them when replying to the email. He did not want to be Alexander _Hamilton_ , but what other options did he have? If that was what he was enrolled as, then he supposed he was a Hamilton for now. No matter how greatly it felt belittling. He was _nothing_ like his father, he—

“Uh, maybe try Alexander Hamilton instead,” he said tightly. “Also yeah, Alex is fine.” _I can probably get it changed later..._

“Oh, you have two last names? Did your parents split up?” Peggy asked curiously before slapping her hand over her mouth right away. “Ohmygod, I’m so sorry, that was so personal and rude...”

Alex waved it off kindly. “No, not a bother, you didn’t mean it. Also yeah, they did. Or something like that.” Alexander had a lot of social skills for someone who never had any real friends. Then again, friendship wasn’t his top priority when he was working for his life on Nevis. Peggy nodded hastily, obviously still guilty, but clacked away on the keyboard and reentered his name. He couldn’t help the unnerving sickness that crept into his chest when her face visibly brightened. _My father’s name..._

“Oh! Here you are!” she chirped. “Okay, so your dorm room is 236, on the second floor... your roommate is actually a really good friend of mine! He signed in a couple weeks ago." A couple  _weeks_? "His name is John Laurens. Tell him I send my love!” she said happily, handing Alex his key. “Oh, and he has his two friends over all the time, too, so I hope you don’t mind a lot of noise!”

Oh, Alex _definitely_ minded. He required calm workspaces if he was to produce his finest pieces of writing. But Peggy was smiling so fondly, and they had only just met.

“I think it’ll be fine,” he grinned, sending a friendly wink her way.  _If it gets too unbearable, I can just tell these idiots to shut their faces._ Then again, Alexander was undoubtedly intrigued by these people for several reasons.

One, the fabled John Laurens was friends with Peggy. And Alex was not one to trust easily, and he didn’t exactly trust her yet, she was definitely someone he felt like he could confide in if he wanted to. She seemed to have good judgement—she wanted to be _his_ friend after all, which was pretty outstanding.

Two, this was the guy he’d be spending almost a full year sleeping across from. He didn’t want to get on his bad side right away. Unless he was a Trump supporter. Alex would be forced to clock John Laurens in the face and request an immediate room change.

Luckily he didn’t have a hundred pounds’ worth of luggage to haul up the stairs like most of the other students, and he definitely didn’t want to take the elevator (he had about as much trust for elevators as he did in certain orange Republicans to run the country), so his one simple backpack over his shoulder bounced rhythmically against his back as he climbed the flight of stairs.

Alexander was indubitably a confident guy, but he was also naturally a bit anxious, he sometimes overthought and worried about things. Not to the point where it was a big deal or clinical, but it often got in the way. So when he stood in front of room 236, he hesitated before entering. He took a deep breath.

And then he dove right in.

He readied his confidence and unlocked the door—his door—and strutted into the room, trying to go for a friendly aura, but also a mixture of _I will break your neck if you give me reason to_. However, it all went unnoticed, as the room was empty except for himself. He couldn’t help but be a little disappointed, but also relieved that he now had more time to unpack his pathetically small amount of luggage and do some writing.

On one side of the room, a bed was messily made; the blankets were dark blue, and out from underneath the matching pillows, there was an open sketchbook peeking out, and seemed to be covered by drawings of small turtles. Talented drawings, Alex noted.

The bed wasn’t the only thing that was messy, though—the majority of clothes he had left consisted of oversized hoodies that littered the floor alongside instant noodle packages that were so unfortunately empty, as well as what Alexander discovered to be crumpled up drawings.

“Why would he want to get rid of these? They’re great,” he mumbled to himself as he inspected the carefully sketched image of a young woman with smooth hair and an abundance of freckles. He left the drawing where he had found it, not wanting Laurens to know he was prying.

A corkboard had been haphazardly nailed into the wall, and littering the board was an empty calendar except for today’s date circles and ‘ _crackin open a cold one w/ the bois!! :D_ ’ (Alex cursed this man’s lack of proper spelling and grammar) was written in the area, as well as various sticky notes that had phone numbers and assignment due dates written on them. Beside the corkboard were a variety of protest posters that advertised feminism, Black Lives Matter rallies, the legitimacy of climate change, the abolition of child labour (how appropriate), the Pride parade, and several posters with cartoon characters on them; one of which being a chubby boy with curly hair and a red star shirt surrounded by women with bizarre appearances (such as a square afro, purple skin and an ungodly skinny and pale woman), and the other being seven people standing in front of a giant humanoid robot, all wearing different colours of the same modelled armour, all with a customary V shape through the chestplate. Alexander did not have the best sight to begin with, but unless his eyes were playing tricks on him, he could swear that the woman with long silver hair and the muscular man with the bright orange hair and mustache had really pointy ears.

All in all, John Laurens seemed like a pretty great guy, even if his taste in shows was questionable. Then again, Alex didn’t watch any shows, so who knows, maybe the attraction to women with cherry-coloured skin, a cubular afro and thighs that looked like they could crush a man was normal in New York.

The opposite side of the room—his side—was immaculate. There were no covers over the bed to be messy, and no crumbs on _everything_ (to which he thanked whatever god may exist). He dropped his red sleeping bag and flung it across the mattress and settled down on top of it, before pulling his backpack up to his chest and hauling out his laptop. Pillows were overrated, anyway. So were blankets. Especially his roommate's extremely comfortable and warm looking blue comforters. 

Alexander didn’t have many clothes in his bag, maybe about four shirts, three pairs of jeans, five pairs of socks and six pairs of underwear (not including the clothes he was currently wearing). Luckily, he had landed a job a few weeks ago in a news article business (which allowed him to work from home), so he could spend hours doing what he loved most—writing—and for money! He had been saving up for some more clothes and a phone. While he understood the necessity of having one in case of an emergency, he had never really felt the strong desire to own one (if he _did_ happen to get into a life-threatening accident, chances were people would notice somebody bleeding out on the side of the road, and if not, he was probably doing something impulsive and stupid, and deserved to die anyway), as he didn’t exactly have friends or family he intended to keep in touch with.

 _Maybe that could change today, though_ , he thought to himself.

He had been jotting notes all up and down his hand and arms with topics he thought of earlier in the day ( _Columbia University bursars fucking suck_ was still prominent against all the other notes, as he’d written it while annoyed, so it tended to stand out more) so he had plenty to work with.

He opened up a new document, and let the words flow through him.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alexander meets Marquis de Lafayette, Hercules Mulligan and John Laurens.

“Well, if it isn’t Aaron Burr, sir!” John Laurens exclaimed with fake excitement.

His two friends, Hercules Mulligan and Marquis de Lafayette, cackled at his tone. The three had a lot in common, including their love for bothering the older student.

“What would someone of your prestige be doing in our humble abode? To what do we owe the pleasure?”

Burr sighed annoyedly before turning to the three’s table without a trace of emotion gracing his features. “The last time I checked, Laurens, this was a public bar. Do you three need something?”

“Oh, do call me John, sir, ‘Laurens’ is so formal!” Lafayette and Mulligan continued to snicker at Burr’s irked expression, though clearly trying to maintain a straight face. Said man ignored him.

“Please, just leave me alone.” Aaron Burr had no intentions to interact with those three if he could help it, much less grow close to them in any way, shape or form. They were a rowdy, rambunctious bunch who spoke their minds, bound to run their mouths off to the wrong person at some point, and get themselves killed. He wanted no association with such a crowd. Unfortunately, he was one of their favourite targets of which to share their idiocy.

“No, sir! Join us for a drink!” Mulligan boomed.

“ _Oui_ , come now! Lighten up, sir!” Lafayette snarked.

“Will you please stop calling me ‘sir’?” he mumbled as he continued shuffling through the bar to get his drink.

Much of him was tempted to just leave and go somewhere else, now that he knew his favourite three asshats would make it their mission to be a nuisance to him as long as he was here. But he was already here, and if he was being honest with himself, Burr didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of knowing how irritated he actually was.

“Whoa, did you guys hear that?!” Laurens cried. “Burr’s got _opinions_! Who’da thunk it? Sir, tell me, how does it feel to finally relieve yourself of your hollow shell of a human being and express emotion?” Lafayette and Hercules had given up on attempting to maintain composure, and were positively shrieking. Burr groaned and ignored them as he made his way up to the bartender and ordered a beer.

Meanwhile, John knew that they were being assholes. Then again, he didn’t particularly care. Burr had decided early on that he was too good for them, and gladly shared passive aggression with them before they started to tease him like they did currently. Not to mention, he was the outlet of ugly rumors being spread about John’s father’s abusive tendencies in high school (he had denied anything of the sort) which resulted in John's recklessness and undesireable habits. Needless to say, he was still very sore about it, which automatically meant Hercules and Lafayette were, too.

“Hey now, sir, don’t give us the silent treatment!” Hercules called after him. Burr paid for his drink and walked sharply to the unoccupied table in the corner of the bar, while the drunken chatter and laughter filled the room.

 _Dear god, please give me patience, because if you give me strength, I’m going to need bail money, too_ , Burr thought when he noticed Laurens, Mulligan and Lafayette with their drinks, heading over to him, talking loudly and shamelessly about anything that crossed their slightly inebriated minds.

“Burr, sir!” Lafayette exclaimed cheerfully, seating himself down in front of Burr, while the other two followed suit. “How do you do? We do just fine. Tell me, _monsieur_ , how is Theodosia?” Laurens and Mulligan gasped exaggeratedly, and Burr choked on his beer.

“Do not bring her into this,” he snarled after he regained composure.

“Into what?” the Frenchman asked innocently. “Companionable conversation? Surely friends such as ourselves should be able to talk about our lovers, hm? No matter how illicit, at that.” Laurens and Mulligan were howling, and Lafayette couldn’t help but join.

Through their hysterics, Laurens managed, “What will Mr. Prevost think, sir?”

That was the last straw—Aaron shot up, anger written all over his face, leaving behind his drink and the three men who were so glad he was giving them a reaction, and stalked out of the establishment without so much as a goodbye or even a ‘fuck you’.

“Oh, come now, sir, leaving so soon? You’ve only just arrived!” Mulligan snarked.

“No more gross rumors about my family?” John added. “What a shame, perhaps another time, then! Ooh, I know, maybe your sequel will be about my brother committing tax fraud!” Burr had long gone by then, so they made their way back to their table and continued to laugh. That is, until the bartender approached them. He was a tall, bulky man (nowhere near Hercules-level bulky, but he was definitely muscular) with tan skin, which was lighter than John, Lafayette and Hercules’, and had blonde hair, that John suspected had been bleached at some point.

“Laurens, you drove away another customer,” he growled. “Normally I’d ask you to leave, but you guys are regulars, so you’re off the hook for now. It happens again, and you’re outta here, got it?” Mulligan, Lafayette and Laurens nodded feverishly.

“Sorry, bro,” Hercules grinned.

“ _Oui, mes excuses, mon ami_ ,” Lafayette apologized.

“Jemmy, I’d just like to state that for the record, he totally started it,” John explained.

“Whatever. Don’t let it happen again,” he gruffed and shuffled back behind the bar. “And don’t call me that.”

“What a lovely man,” John smiled sarcastically. “Anyway, boys, maybe it’s about time we take our leave. It seems like we’re no longer in Jemmy’s good books.”

“Amen,” Hercules agreed. “Wanna go back to your dorm, John? Ours is a disaster.”

“Since when has a mess ever bothered John?” Lafayette asked humorously.

“True that. But sure, whatever, you can come to mine... hey, you guys think the new guy's finally going to have arrived, yet?” he asked his friends as they waved cheerfully at the bartender as they exited the bar, who glared in return.

“Who knows, _mon ami_ ,” Lafayette replied, “school doesn’t start up for another week, anyway. It could be any day now.”

“That is, unless he dropped out or something,” Mulligan added. “What did Pegs say his name was, again? Alex Hammonton?”

“Alexander Hamilton.”

“ _Quelle bouchée_ ,” Lafayette chuckled. “How did you remember that?”

John shrugged; “I did my best to remember it, seeing as I’m gonna be rooming with the guy. I’m gonna be the best friend, like, ever.”

“You needn’t worry, small one, you already are!” the Frenchman said brightly, while Hercules agreed and threw his arm around the man in question’s neck and began noogieing him mercilessly.

“It was annoying, though, there are so many Alex Hamiltons on Facebook, most of which are middle-aged men!” John said exasperatedly, after having escaped his friend’s crushing grasp.

“Maybe he doesn’t have a Facebook?”

“Herc’s right, _mec_ , you’re the only nineteen-year-old with a Facebook account. It just means Alexandre isn’t a loser, like you.”

“Just a second ago you were telling me what a good friend I am, now you’re calling me a loser? Pick a side of the spectrum, heathen!”

“Never,” he grinned, throwing his arm around John’s shoulder, and Hercules laughed and followed suit.

“Deal with it, youngling,” Mulligan guffawed.

“Y’all are weird.”

“Your South Carolina is showing.”

“Ew, now I have to bleach my mouth—!”

 

***

 

After a few hours (and nineteen pages) later, Alex heard voices coming from the hallway. The day had been relatively quiet, and especially so after he’d signed in, which had led to wondering if the students were even here, or just getting some sleep in before the inevitable all-nighters they’d soon be suffering through.

Then the door swung open.

And Alexander dropped his laptop.

Three men sauntered in, not immediately paying Alexander any notice, so he took these fleeting moments to study them.

They all had the faint scent of alcohol wafting off them. The one who belonged to the booming voice was tall, muscular and dark-skinned; he had a grey beanie on, and was wearing a dark green t-shirt. His presence was slightly intimidating.

The one who was obviously the owner of the sharp French voice was a few centimeters shorter than the first boy, and was a few skin tones lighter. He had puffy hair scrunched up into a ponytail that reminded Alex of Peggy’s. He had a long-sleeved navy shirt, which definitely complimented his toned arms. He was obviously very exuberant and flamboyant, which Alexander picked up by the way he walked and wild arm motions.

The third boy was shorter than the other two, and Alexander noticed his thousand-watt smile before anything else. He was tanned, with a million freckles gracing his features, a few inches taller than Alexander was, and curly hair that had been, like the French man and Peggy, attempted to scrape into a ponytail. Though the formers had both been much more successful than the tanned boy in terms of organization, as there were many small springs itching their way out of the monstrous ponytail. He was wearing a black t-shirt (with _Black Lives Matter_ printed in white bold font) that really made his muscles look even better than they already were. His eyes were a deep hazel green, and his smile...

Needless to say, Alexander was suddenly a little self-conscious. And flushing up. Probably out of embarrassment, due to him just being in worn-out jeans, an old white shirt that read _Non-Stop_ in black, and a pathetically messy bun that was held together by just a pen. 

Suddenly there was a loud shriek—

“ _Mon dieu_! You scared me!” the boy with the French voice cried. Alex realized he was referring to him, and he jumped off the bed to snatch his forgotten laptop up right away. The other two looked startled themselves, but the freckled boy instantly dove to the ground and started frantically scooping up the crumpled drawings.

_Oh. So that must be John Laurens. Oh. Okay._

“Shit! Sorry, man, didn’t even see you there!” the tallest said before Alexander could even get a word out. “Hercules Mulligan. Though I need no introduction,” he smirked. Even though he was significantly quieter than when he’d heard them in the hallway, he was easily still the loudest in the room. And building.

“Hercules Mulligan? As in, Hercules the Greek god?” Alex inquired curiously. _Great first impression, idiot._ But Mulligan barked a boisterous laugh and slapped Alex on the back, which he instantly struggled to stay standing after.

“Like I haven’t heard that one before!” Alexander noticed that there was no reason to be intimidated by him—Hercules was a teddy bear kind of guy. A teddy bear who could probably break him in half.

The one who’d yelped pushed Hercules aside and stood tall and confidently, with enough self-assurance that could rival Alex’s own, preening. “ _Bonjour, mon petit ami! Je m’appelle Marie-Joseph Paul Gilbert Yves Gilbert Motier, Marquis de Lafayette, mais je vais vous sauver en utilisant simplement Lafayette. Voyant que tu es la colocataire de John, je dois te souhaiter bonne chance_...” ( _ **Hello, my little friend! My name is Marie-Joseph Paul Gilbert Yves Gilbert Motier, Marquis de Lafayette, but I will spare you simply by using Lafayette. Seeing as you are John’s roommate, I have to say good luck...**_ )

“ _M’appelle ‘peu’ de nouveau, et c'est la fin de votre genouillères, tige d'haricot_ ,” ( _ **Call me ‘little’ again, and it’s the end of your kneecaps, beanstalk**_ ) Alex hissed before slapping his hand to his mouth and realized what he’d done. John immediately burst into fits of uncontrollable laughter and dropped all of the paper he’d been carrying to the garbage, so Alex guessed he also spoke French; meanwhile Hercules looked confused and dreadful, muttering something that sounded like ‘not another one’, but Alexander wasn’t certain.

Instead of becoming angry, sheer awe spread across Lafayette’s face. “You... speak French?” he inquired, trying to contain excitement.

“And Spanish, fluently,” Alex said hesitantly, wondering if he was out of the woods after having threatened to break the boy’s kneecaps only just a second ago. But he wasn’t going to apologize for something he meant—he wasn’t even _that_ short.

To his utter surprise, Lafayette swept him into a crushing hug which lifted him off the ground. “I like this one, we’re keeping him!” he declared. Alexander grinned widely, despite not being able to breathe and not being used to physical contact that didn’t involve pain. “Oh, and the hysterical idiot is John Laurens,” Lafayette said, and placed him back down.

“Yeah. Oh yeah, I haven’t even had the chance to introduce myself, so I’m Alexander,” he said with a smile that tried to contain excitement. “Alexander Faucette.”

“Oh, we know—John went downstairs to ask Peggy ages ago,” Hercules laughed.

“Wait, I thought your name was Alexander Hamilton,” John piped up from his spot on the floor wonderingly, confirming his friend’s previous statement.

“Hamilton was my dad’s name, Faucette was my mom’s; I just prefer to use my mom’s,” he answered, mostly truthful. In honesty, he was quite repulsed people used the same name that connected him to his father. His lying, cheating, abusive, pathetic father. He hated bearing the thought that he had any relation to such a weaselly man.

But then he wondered—what if he made Hamilton his own name? It wouldn’t be his father’s, but Alexander’s? He could forget about the ties he held to his blood relatives, and be himself.

A Hamilton... it would take some adjustment, and he still preferred Faucette, but it could be his. It would have to be, seeing as that’s who he was registered as...

He wouldn’t admit, but Alexander Hamilton did have a nice ring to it.

John nodded, and he was all smiles. His personality was bright and sunny, much like Peggy’s, Alexander noticed. It was no wonder they were friends.

John Laurens was energetic, bouncy, but if the fierce look in his eye gave away anything, there was more determination to his fun exterior than he immediately led on.

“I’m John Laurens in the place to be,” he smiled hugely and with a showy wink, extended his hand. Alexander grinned and accepted the gesture (all while internally beating away anymore blush with a stick). These three didn’t already hate his guts, so Alexander considered it a noteworthy accomplishment.

“Laf, Herc,” John grinned, “we have to do the thing to initiate the small kneebreaker.”

“Oh, we’re definitely doing the thing,” Lafayette agreed.

Hercules saluted, and made his way over to the window and drew the blinds, plunging the room into almost complete darkness; meanwhile, the other two switched their phone flashlights on and placed them on the floor so it added cryptic lighting to the room, while Alex stood very confused.

“Is this some sort of cult ritual you’re trying to submit me into?” he asked. “Because I’m not interested in dabbling in the dark arts or whatever freaky shit—”

The three all laughed in unison.

“Non, fool,” Lafayette replied, “this is how we’re going to get to know you better. It’s like truth or dare, but extreme! Sit!”

“Okay, but I’m not a fool, just for the record.” _And I don’t want you to get to know me better._ Alexander sat in the circle they had poorly established, in between Mulligan and Laurens. “So... now what?”

“We ask each other questions and dare each other to do embarrassing and occasionally dangerous crap, as one would normally play truth or dare,” John answered with a hint of good-mannered sarcasm in his voice. “Why, never played before?”

“Nope. This all still seems like a cult to me.”

“You’ve never played truth or dare?!” Lafayette and Hercules shouted. John just looked surprised.

“You must have been to some lame-ass birthday parties!”

Alexander didn’t feel like revealing at that time that he had never actually been to a birthday party, so he let it slide. “So how does this work? We just take turns or what?”

“Pretty much,” John answered, grinning. “Want to go first?”

“No, I’d rather see how the professional cultists do it before I try,” he responded.

“Understandable, have a nice day—Laf, truth or dare!”

“Dare,” he replied confidently. Perhaps a little smugly, even.

“You idiot! I’m not getting you down from the roof again!” Hercules hissed at Lafayette as John exaggeratedly tapped his chin to show he was thinking of something cruel. “John’s dares are not exactly tame,” he whispered to Alex, who was confusedly amused.

“I dare you, Gilbert—” Lafayette scowled—“to call the fifth person on your contacts and demand your late Thai food is delivered this second!” John, Alexander and Hercules all started cackling like hyenas as Lafayette groaned and pulled his phone up off the floor. He switched the flashlight off after they all complained about it being shone in their faces. “Oh, and put it on speaker, too!”

“Lovely, time to lose another friend to the likes of you morons,” he sighed. Alexander assumed the tapping away on the device was loading the contacts app. Suddenly, Lafayette gasped and squawked “NO!”

“What? Who is it?” John asked excitedly.

“It’s... A-Adrienne,” he admitted, before John and Hercules began to laugh even louder and point.

“Who’s Adrienne?” Alexander asked.

“His ex!” John howled.

“Most recent ex, anyway,” Lafayette winked. “I dumped her last year because she started being... weird.”

“Care to elaborate?”

“No. Point is, she freaks me out. She, er, didn’t take the breakup well...”

“Go on, then!” Hercules encouraged. “Call her!” Alexander had to admit he was curious as to how weird this girl actually was.

He dialed the number, which rung several times before a girl with a very heavy French accent answered. “ _Bonjour_?”

“ _Bonjour, oui_ , I’ve been waiting for my Thai food for three hours now, and I’m getting rather sick of waiting!”

“ _Excusé moi_? I think you have the wrong—”

“This isn’t funny!” Lafayette growled non threateningly as Alex covered his mouth to prevent giggling, and John and Hercules attempted to stifle shrieking. “What sort of _merde_ establishment do you think you run?!”

“ _Je ne travaille même pas dans la restauration rapide_!” Adrienne exclaimed angrily. “You have the wrong number!”

“Uh, _non_ ,” Lafayette hissed exaggeratedly as Hercules stumbled up to run out of the room to prevent laughing and ruining the joke, “I am certain that this is the very Thai establishment whom I purchased dinner from, _and have yet to fucking deliver!_ ”

That was the end for John. He burst out scream-laughing, which was only infectious. Before they knew it, Alexander was laughing and Lafayette was laughing and Hercules had come back in and was laughing, too. Adrienne was not laughing.

“ _Qui est-ce? Qu'est-ce que cela veut dire? Il est dix heures du soir! Tu as le mauvais numéro! Je_ —wait a second, Gilbert is that you?!”

Immediately upon hearing his name, Lafayette hung up, and by that point, was laughing so hard he couldn’t even hold his phone in his hand. Alex was holding his stomach, not being used to laughing so hard, or even at all. It was the happiest he had been in a long while—he met not just one, but four very kind people today who he intended to get to know better. He had been at university for a few hours, and he was already enjoying himself. John’s bubbly laughter rippled through the room.

As they all settled down, Hercules wiped away tears from his eyes—so did Lafayette, but Alex wasn’t sure whether they were from laughing so hard or fear of his ex.

“I don’t get it, she didn’t even seem that crazy,” Alex breathed heavily, still calming his lungs.

“You haven’t seen her in her true wrath,” John whispered with a grin. “Once, she called the police while she was in an argument with Laf to determine that he had gotten fingerprints on her favourite vase, and had them scan the fingerprints... and they turned out to be her own!” He started laughing again, and it was contagious.

“Okay, yeah, that’s pretty extreme,” Alexander agreed.

“Alright, Laf, your turn!” Hercules smiled fondly.

“Alex!” Lafayette decided instantly.

“What?”

“Truth or dare!”

He didn’t really want to be forced to do something humiliating, but if it gave him the option to dodge personal questions and make his friends(?) laugh again, hey, he was all for it.

“...dare?”

As Lafayette thought, John leaned over and nudged him.

“Good choice—Laf sucks at dares, so you’ll be fine. Just like Herc sucks at truths, and I suck at nothing,” he finished with a wink.

Alex grinned widely. “Is that a challenge?” This was more fun than he thought it would be. But before John could reply, Lafayette snapped his fingers.

“Okay, Alexandre, I dare youuu... to run through the corridor singing the ABCs as loudly as you can!”

 _Oh my god_. He groaned and flopped his head in his hands as the other three cracked up. “Do I have to?”

“This is truth or dare, Alexandre! If you do not oblige to the dare, you will be forever disgraced by the truth or dare gods, and an eternal disgrace in the name of party games.”

“Chicken?” Hercules teased. Alex snapped up, startling everyone, and felt his body light aflame.

“Nobody has ever, nor _will_ ever get the satisfaction of seeing me chicken out of _anything_ ,” he declared, and with that, burst out of the door and ran down the hall, singing badly. Alexander was worried people would come out of their dorms, but the entire floor was practically a ghost town; Thank god for that. When he was done, the door was still open, and the three men were watching from inside, John holding his phone up at him and undoubtedly filming his humiliation and they were all laughing equally as hard as before.

“Jesus...” Hercules bellowed. “Definitely no chicken! You’re going to fit in real great with us!” He slapped Alex on the back again, and again, he stumbled under the man’s strength. _Maybe he’s called Hercules for a reason._

They all collapsed onto the floor; Alex was on the verge of sweating and was heaving, not being used to doing much exercise and all, while the other three had yet to discontinue their hysterics. It had to be exhausting, laughing so much. Maybe they had built up a tolerance after having been friends for so long.

“Alex, your turn,” John smiled when his breathing had normalled.

“Okay, uh, John! Truth or dare?” H _e doesn’t know if I’m better at truths or dare like Lafayette and Hercules... wait, he knows this is the first time I’ve played, so he knows I’m bad at both!_ For that split second he thought he’d had had an advantage on his side. _Damn_.

“Hmm. Truth,” he answered.

 _How do you manage to smile so much? Why do you have so many freckles? Why do you have such a nice laugh?_   “Alright, well, uh. How... long have you guys all been friends? And where did you meet?” he asked. Not the most creative question, but he _did_ want to get to know them.

“Jeez, when did we meet?” he reminisced happily. “I met Herc in grade five after I was sent from South Carolina and he was sent from Ireland to England for boarding school, I think. In grade nine, we both ended up coming to America, and we met Laf in the ninth grade when he immigrated from France! It kind of just all worked out perfectly! And now you’re here, so that’s even better!”

Alex felt warm. They were _happy_ he was here.

“Which reminds me, we can’t be the Revolutionary Trio anymore, guys, because there’s four of us now.”

“We’ll work on it,” Hercules grinned. Alex’s cheeks were starting to hurt after having smiled and laughed so much in one day. It felt good, though.

 

***

 

In the few hours he had hung out with John Laurens, Hercules Mulligan and Marquis de Lafayette, he had learned about them, that John also spoke Spanish, his dad was from Puerto Rico, he had four younger siblings (Martha, Henry Jr., James and Mary Eleanor), his favourite animal were turtles—which Alex could have guessed—and he loved cartoons such as _Voltron: Legendary Defender_ , _Steven Universe_ , _Star VS the Forces of Evil_ , _Avatar the Last Airbender_ , _The Legend of Korra_ and various sports anime. He also had cute freckles, and was a kid at heart.

Hercules was a tailor, had a brother named Hugh, he was from Ireland (“I love the rain, it doesn’t rain enough over here.”) and he was kind of the dad friend; he had been enamoured with fashion from a young age and never really let it go (his parents had thought it was a phase. It wasn’t.) and had actually made most of his own clothes. He had an ex-girlfriend (the identity of whom he refused to share, but John whispered a promise to tell him later), and often watched John’s shows to humour him, but didn’t really understand them.

Lafayette was a French aristocrat and had moved to America with his parents and brother, Michel de Lafayette when he was fourteen, but his family had moved back without him in grade twelve, as he had refused to leave because he loved America so much. His favourite colour was purple, he learned and became fluent in English only one year after moving (Alex was extremely impressed, as it had taken him several years to learn it himself), and was the one who had gotten John into cartoons and anime. He watched a large variety of shows, though, which included mostly popular Basic White Girl shows on Netflix. Alexander also learned what Netflix was.

As for himself, he had been very careful with what personal information he shared. He revealed that he was not from America (refused to specify where exactly, though), his favourite animal was a dog, he liked the colour green, he loved writing, he hated the rain (he apologized to Hercules, who said “you’re dead to me.”) and never had the chance to watch any TV.

So it had become the other three’s (well, mostly two) mission to turn him into a fanboy, but just as Lafayette and John were discussing someone named Lance and his maturing character arc, an alarm on John’s phone went off. As he went to stop the obnoxious noise, his eyes lit up.

“Guys! The Schuylers’ thing is on now!”

“John, did you seriously set the alarm for the exact time the thing starts?”

“Uh, yeah? Why, did you want me to set it an hour in advance so we could arrive neat and punctual, Mr. Mulligan?”

“Yeah, dude, that’s not how parties work,” Lafayette chimed in. _Party?_ “You’re supposed to get to them late, so you look cooler than you actually are, and you can pretend you had better things to do.”

“Laf, that is the most uncool thing you’ve ever said in your whole life,” John deadpanned, and Alex started laughing. “This is kind of our dynamic,” he explained, chuckling.

“I’ll keep that in mind. Now do tell me, what’s going on about a party?” He hadn’t meant to sound as if he were demanding an invitation, but realized too late that it had. Thankfully, the other three didn’t even seem to notice.

“Now that we’re all acquainted, it’s necessary that we all actually go somewhere together—some roommate-and-friends bonding, if you will!” John declared and stood up. “Alexander, there’s a party going on tonight that our friends are hosting to celebrate the beginning of school—”

“Whose idea was it to celebrate school?” Hercules cut in. Lafayette cackled.

“—and those two idiots and I were invited," he finished without missing a beat. "Would you be interested in accompanying us, dearest Alexander?” he asked, bowing playfully, his smile never faltering.

A party? Absolutely not. Alex hated parties. Not that he’d been to any recently, but he hated social gatherings so... extravagant. He was reclusive, and would much prefer to write the evening away.

But something about that smile held something that Alex couldn’t say no to, and that’s how he found himself in front of the honours dorms, which was one of the largest dorm rooms in the university. Music was audible down the other end of the corridor, and lights flashed underneath the door.

_Dear god..._

“Ready?” John asked, flashing him a grin.

_No!_

“As I’ll ever be,” Alex sighed and tried to seem indifferent, but he couldn’t wipe away a light sheen of nervous sweat from his forehead without it seeming indiscreet. Without warning, John seized his hand and pulled him inside after his two friends, not even bothering to knock.

_What have I gotten myself into?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! :) Chapter three should be relatively soon because I've got the first several already mostly finished on a document, I just need to do some minor editing.  
> \- Blue


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John literally drags Alexander to the Schuyler Sisters' party. He meets Eliza and Maria Lewis. John is a bad influence and highkey peer pressures Alexander into drinking. A lot.

“Alex, come on!” John urged, practically dragging him through the crowded area.

There were flashing lights that consistently changed colours, large speakers sat on the floor near the small sitting room where people were dancing drunkenly.

_So there’s alcohol_ , he inwardly noted. _This is going to be hell for whoever gets to clean up this whole mess_.

Everything was a blur. But John’s hand was still locked on his, so at least he didn’t get lost in the sea of bodies.

“Where are we going?” he said, borderline shouting.

“You’re going to meet our other friends, the Schuyler sisters! They’re also the loons who decided to have this party and add alcohol to the equation!”

“They don’t seem like a clever bunch,” Alex mumbled and hoped John hadn’t heard.

As the latter heard somebody calling his name, he broke away from Alexander promising to meet him in the kitchen as soon as he was done chatting. Alexander didn’t want to be alone in this hellish, drunken wasteland, but he suddenly saw a familiar face.

“Peggy!” he cried. She had been talking to another girl, but when she heard her name, Peggy turned her head, her bushy hair bouncing behind her as she moved. Then she saw him, and grinned back.

“Alexander! I didn’t know you’d be here!” she exclaimed as he approached her, and the girl she’d been chatting with excused herself.

Alex had been right about her being short. The girl was barely up to his shoulders, and he wasn’t exactly tall, either.

“You also didn’t invite me,” he answered cheekily and feigned offence.

“I’m so sorry! It completely slipped my mind to tell you!” she gasped. “For the record, I definitely would have!” Alex waved her off.

“It’s okay, I’m only messing with you,” he laughed. “So this is your dorm? I didn’t know you were a student, too!”

“I’m not, but I will be next year! I just volunteer to run the registration when I’ve got nothing to do, and I like seeing my sisters in action! This is their dorm. I’m graduating high school this year and I’ve already got a scholarship here, because I ace all my classes and my dad may or may not be quite wealthy and popular,” she winked playfully.

“You’ve got a scholarship? Peggy, that’s amazing!” Alex awed, ignoring the bit about her dad being wealthy on purpose.

“Why thank you,” she said proudly. Then changing the subject again, “My sisters won’t let me have any drinks because I’m ‘underage’, so this party is less tolerable than it could be.”

“Aww, poor baby,” Alex teased, knowing fully well he had no intentions to have any alcohol either.

“Who’re you calling baby?” she teased back, and punched him in the shoulder, which he pretended didn’t hurt as much as it sorely, _sorely_ did. “Oh! Speaking of my sisters, Alex, you should meet Angelica and Eliza! Come with me, I think ‘liza’s in the lounge!”

She made her way around him and weaved through everybody in the hunt for the other girl.

On the way through, someone bumped into him and spilled a bit of something onto his hoodie—his favourite, and only hoodie.

“Hey, watch where you’re going!” he snapped.

The owner turned around, and appeared to be a tall boy with dark skin and charcoal-black hair with a baby-blue long-sleeved shirt. He instantly clapped his hand to his mouth and began apologizing.

“O-oh my gosh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you there! Uh, i-is that going to come out? I’m really sorry, I can pay for a replacement if it doesn’t!” His voice was mellow and kind. Alexander seriously wanted to be mad, but this boy didn’t seem like he’d meant to spill the drink, and not to mention he seemed like the kind of guy who wouldn’t hurt a fly.

Alex sighed—“It’s fine, I guess.”

The boy stuck his hand out; “James Madison—sorry again, about the drink...”

Alex gave him a small smile. “It’s alright, I’m sure I can get it washed or something. I’m Alexander. Alexander... Hamilton," he replied, shaking James' hand firmly.

“Alex, where are you? Where’d you go?” Peggy’s voice shouted through the crowd as she pushed through and found him again. “There you are! C’mon, I’ve got Eliza over here. Oh, hey Mads! You here with T-Jeffs?”

“Thomas went to go get a refill,” he said, the name fondly rolling off his tongue. Alexander was about to ask who Thomas was, but then the Schuyler sister grabbed his arm extra firmly for good measure this time, and dragged him away.

On the comforter sat two girls who were talking quietly with one another, ignoring the chaos around them.

One had a pretty red skirt, black top, warm brown skin and just past shoulder-length curly hair; the ends of it was dyed with fading red colouring and some covered her right eye, and thick red lipstick to match her skirt was professionally done, and she looked marvellously alike to Peggy. The other was paler and had long raven hair that was devoid of curls, but had some natural waviness about it. She also had light makeup on and wore a cute blue sundress which was similar to Peggy’s outfit, but differently coloured. Both were very attractive, Alexander noticed immediately.

Alex had to pretend not to be surprised when she didn’t introduce the girl in red as her sister Eliza, seeing as how similar in appearance they were.

“Alex, this is my older sister, Eliza!” she said, referring to the girl in blue. And to the other girl in red, “And this is Maria Lewis! This is my new friend, Alexander Hamilton! We met earlier when I was registering students, and he started chatting with me!”

Eliza politely offered her hand, which Alex graciously accepted. “How are you, Alexander?” she asked quietly.

“I’m brilliant,” he answered automatically, “and yourself?”

“I’m fine,” she smiled brightly. Unlike Peggy’s energetic, exuberant persona, Eliza was more calm and friendly. “How are you enjoying the party?”

“It’s loud,” he replied honestly. “And cramped. You lot sure know a lot of people.”

She waved her hand with a sigh. “ _Angelica_ knows a lot of people. It’s too many guests in my opinion, too. Alexander, what are you majoring in?”

“Creative writing, pre-law and liberal studies. Minoring in civil engineering and society and honours economics.”

The three girls stared at him.

“Wow,” Maria said, speaking for the first time around Alex. “Those are pretty difficult classes, aren’t they?”

Alex shrugged. He desperately tried not to brag, but they were making it hard. “I guess you could say that. But I’ve always loved the English language and politics, so I’m really glad I get to study things I’m passionate about.”

The conversation continued almost seamlessly for a few minutes longer about Maria Eliza’s own classes, with only several awkward breaks in between until John came racing through, obviously having ingested a small amount of alcohol.

“Hey, y’all! Hey Peggers! Have you seen—oh wait, there you are, Alexander! I’ve been looking around for you, I thought you were gonna meet me in the kitchen,” he finished with a pretend pout.

“I’m sorry John,” Alex smiled reassuringly, “I was dragged away by the lovely lady Peggy, and had the honour of meeting her equally lovely sister, and equally-equally lovely friend.” Maria ruffled her dress sharply at the last bit, and because Alexander didn’t know what that was all about, he pretended not to notice.

“Well I’m lovely too, so come on! You need a drink, and you need to watch me kick Mulligan’s ass at ping pong!” he exclaimed, completely ignoring the three girls. Laurens’ speech wasn’t slurred, but it was noticeable enough to tell he’d been drinking, and by his energy, intended to drink more.

“Oh, no, I don’t drink,” he replied earnestly, but followed behind John anyway.

“Why not?” he implored.

“Well, uh, I don’t want to? Your hangover is already going to be a bitch, I don’t feel like sporting one to match.”

“Aw, c’mon, ‘lex, lighten up!” John laughed loudly. “Live a little! One night of drunken mistakes is healthy!”

“Actually, common knowledge of the effect alcohol has on the human body beg to differ—”

“Don’t make me say it,” John grinned.

“Say what?”

“I’ll say it.”

“Say what? What are you talking about?”

John was definitely a character. The man in questioned abruptly leaned down slightly to Alex’s height and in his ear, whispered lowly, “somebody’s a chicken.”

 

***

 

“Alexander! _Please_ get off the table!” Eliza shrieked through the cheering crowd as Alexander continued rapping an original song he’d written a while back.

“ _I’ma get a scholarship to King’s College! I prolly shouldn’t brag but dag, I amaze and astonish! The problem is I gotta lotta brains but no polish! I gotta holler just to be heard, with ev’ry word, I drop knowledge! I’ma diamond in the rough, a shiny piece of coal_ —”

“You’re going to be in the emergency room with a broken wrist! _Come down_!”

Eliza had been unfortunate enough to remain one of the few sober students, which automatically made her in charge of making sure the drunk children didn’t die. Luckily, Alex obliged and climbed down, swaying somewhat.

This was by far the drunkest he’d ever been. It wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be—everything was funnier, everyone was his friend, he was more confident than he was already (before he had started rapping on the table, he’d gotten into an epic debate with some idiot with annoying, frizzy hair and utterly destroyed him, even in his drunken state) and he was having a great time.

This time, Laurens hadn’t once left his side again after having abandoned him earlier. He stumbled over to him and threw his arm over Alex’s unsteady shoulders, laughing at nothing, but also everything.

“Tha’ wass great!” he yelled. “Got ‘nymore raps?!”

“Not really, jus’ the one!” Alex cackled.

Eliza pushed her way through, and warned, “Stay off the table, or you’ll hurt yourself!” before disappearing again.

Alex and John laughed. “She’s so nice!” Alex guffawed.

“Y-you know who isn’ nice? Angel’ca! She’s always tellin’ me, ‘ _John, tha’s too much beer_!' ' _John, you hav’ no self c’ntrol_!’ What does _she_ know!”

Alexander had yet to meet the fabled Angelica Schuyler, as before Peggy had the chance to introduce him, John had captured and _kind of_ peer-pressured him into downing several beers, an abundance of shots and half a bottle of vodka. The inebriated friends made their way over to the couch where they continued to laugh until their faces hurt. Then John shot up to look for somewhere to throw up, leaving Alexander alone and intoxicated.

“...Alexander?” came a familiar voice. His vision was fuzzy, so he didn't bother even opening up his eyes.

“Joooohn!” he responded, opening his arms joyously.

“Um, no. Not John. Maria. Speaking of which, where is John? I thought he was with you.”

Alex shrugged. “Dunno, but now ‘m alone,” he whined.

“Eliza’s wandered off somewhere too, so I’m also alone. May I sit with you?” she asked, as if Drunk Alexander gave a shit about manners in such a state.

“Ofcourse!” he yelled. Politely, Maria sat next to Alexander, who leaned his head on her shoulder. As he couldn’t think straight, it had just seemed like the correct course of action. He yawned.

“Are you tired?” she asked, amused.

“Exhausted,” he sighed. “Do you know where John ‘s?”

“I already said I didn’t,” Maria replied patiently.

“Oh,” he said sadly. “Do you think he’s comin’ back?”

“Of course he’s coming back. Why would he not be?”

Alexander started to tear up without realizing it until Maria’s shoulder was damp.

“Ev’rybody I like leaves me,” he lamented abruptly, much to Maria’s surprise.

“What?” she asked quietly.

Alexander’s inebriated mind couldn’t formulate any proper reasons as why not to tell the girl he’d met a few hours ago his sob story, so he continued. And sob he did. 

“Firs’ my dad leaves my fam'ly fer dead, but I don’ like him ‘nymore. Fuck that whore. Then my mom, she got sick an’ died an’ left me too. I was sick too, but I got bett’r, ‘cuz she spent ev’rything she had to buy medicin’ for me. Never anythin’ for herself, always for me. Even when she was sick, she worked, 'til it became too much fer her to bear. And my broth’r, James... w-we used to play on th' beach t'gether. He'd kick water at me, and I'd scream an' laugh and kick it righ' back at 'im. The hurricane didn' care, though, it swept him an’ ev’rybody else ‘way. I nearly drowned too, but I didn’. ‘M still alive, even though ev’rybody left or died. I-I don’ want my new frien’s to die, too, Maria. D-do you think it's b'cause 'm cursed?”

He was positively bawling now. Maria was absolutely stunned by this drunk kid’s tearful outburst, but regardless she hugged him tight and stroked his hair affectionately in an attempt to get him to calm down.

“Shh, shh, hey, Alexander. Come now. Your past was horrifying, and you had to grow up so much faster than you should have. I-it's hard, feeling like you have nobody. Feeling like the world's just trying to torture and kill you specifically, like you've been singled out by some sort of heinous draw. I understand what you mean.”

Maria had just described exactly what he felt; this intrigued Alex, even with the alcohol numbing his inhibitions, and he shuffled closer. Maria gave a small chuckle. “What, you want to know my tragic tale?”

Through the tears, Alex nodded fervently. Maria sighed.

“I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but it’s not like you’ll remember, anyway. Well, when... I... w-when I was a teenager, my parents sold me off to a wealthy family called the Reynolds. James Reynolds, their oldest son demanded my hand in marriage, and it wasn’t like I could have said no. He... h-he did some things to me that I explicitly insisted against,” Maria choked out.

She was crying now, too, but much less ugly than Alexander’s sobs, and much quieter, for that matter.

“He made me do things I didn’t want to do. My parents had sold me, their only daughter, away for drinking money. I couldn’t take it anymore, so I ran away. I had nobody, then—I couldn’t go back home to my parents, because they’d just send me right back. So I cut all my hair off, changed my name and started working to support myself, while staying in a homeless shelter, all still while finishing high school.”

Her hair was a few inches past shoulder-length, which told Alexander it had been a long time since she’d cut her hair.

“It was there that I met Eliza, who I became very close with... she offered me a loan, and I got my own place where I lived for two years, and helped get me back on my feet. She even paid for me to attend this school. I really owe her... well, everything, really. Because it wasn’t just the money she gave me, it was her unconditional respect and support and friendship. She’s so wonderful and perfect, and I—oh my gosh, what am I doing, spouting off my whole life story to drunken Alexander Hamilton whom I just met today.”

She laughed lightly at the last part, as it was rather silly. Alexander had stopped crying (mostly) and had been attentively listening to her story, and nestled further into the crevice of her neck, appreciating how she smelled like lilac.

“Where does James Reynolds live? I’ma fuckin’ kill ‘im. Your bitchy parents, too. No offence.”

“None taken,” she chuckled.

It was then that Laurens stumbled back into the sitting room and witnessed the teary display that was Alex and Maria.

“Heyyyy, ‘m back, y’all!” he announced with a raspier voice than before, likely due to having been throwing up in the bathroom for about ten minutes. “Ohmygod, are y’all okay? Why do you look so sad?” John suddenly seemed to sober up a little bit at the pitiful sight of his friends, and much less concerned about his alcohol input or enjoying the party. Alex’s heart melted a little bit at the observation.

“Alexander is drunk and got sad after you left. Now we’re being sad together,” Maria answered with a small smile, drying the leftover tears in her warm brown eyes. “Would you like to join us?”

“Please join us,” Alex croaked as his voice cracked, and he feared he would start crying again. He extended his arms out to John, who practically lept into them.

A moment later, it was a small cuddle pile, with Alexander now lying on Maria’s lap, John curled up in his arms, his gangly legs sprawled along the couch and occupying the remaining space, and Maria gently stroking their heads and smiling fondly.

She couldn’t admit to being a fan of drunk idiots, but she made an exception for these drunk idiots.

 

***

 

After her short break from the party that she had spent taking a walk through the hallway multiple times, Eliza reentered the dorm room.

She didn’t like parties that were loud and crazy as this one had been, but when Angelica told her that she had landed a new job at some prestigious office that had flexible hours and excellent pay, and wanted to celebrate by hosting a small get-together, who was she to say no? She was proud of her older sister, and willing to celebrate her accomplishments however she’d choose.

But that ‘small get-together’ turned into a full blown circus, after Angelica wanted to impress her friends and co-workers by adding alcohol to the whole thing. And the word spread of a party fast, so soon enough, it wasn’t just the people on the guest list who’d showed up, but apparently, the entire building.

At least most of the guests had left, but unfortunately, those who were left were drunk, stoned or unconscious.

Eliza also wasn’t one to drink. She found that the taste of wine was nice, she found, but she felt guilty drinking it. It made her feel like a delinquent—a ne’er-do-well—because as she was nineteen, she was technically underage.

Angelica was only twenty, a year older than her, but didn’t seem perturbed by alcohol, and small amounts every now and then was fine. So instead of drowning her anxiety in booze, she remained by Maria’s side the whole time and clung to her like a lifeline.

When she went for a walk, however, she couldn’t find Maria before she felt like her head was about to explode, so she had to rush out. When she returned to the party, it was significantly calmer, much to her liking; the music was no longer blasting, the coloured lights had run out of batteries, so Angelica resorted to turning on the few lamps they owned instead of the overhead lights, as they would be killer on anyone who’d even touched a drink.

The place was still a mess—beer cans littering every room, crumbs and leftover food caked every table and passed-out guests were just collapsed anywhere; the few still conscious attendants were huddled in corners and talking quietly or making out somewhere.

Imagine Eliza’s surprise to find her best friend all snuggled up against one of her closest friends and the cute boy she met earlier, all on the verge of being, or already unconscious. She didn’t know what to think—should she laugh? Should she be jealous? Should she take pictures?

After a moment of standing and staring, Eliza brushed off cheeto crumbs from her lively blue dress and made her way to the small cuddle-pile.

Maria’s breathing was evening, which meant she could have fallen asleep at any second, and Eliza began to wonder if it was even worth it... they all looked so at peace.

But she also _really really really_ wanted to be included in the cuddling.

She snuggled with Maria all the time, and she was a fantastic snuggler. She’d hugged John Laurens many times, and he was a giant teddy bear. As for the cute boy named Alexander Hamilton? His cuddling abilities would be the increase or demise of any attraction towards him, platonic or otherwise.

Eliza had observed said cute boy for a lot of the night (she preferred ‘observed’ as opposed to ‘stalked him creepily for hours on end’, because she definitely wasn’t being creepy, she was simply intrigued). Although Alexander made an absolute fool of himself while intoxicated, she had to admit he was an excellent rapper, and it was a little bit adorable what a happy drunk he was. She hadn’t known him long enough to be in love with him or even have real feelings for him, but she was attracted to him. He was intelligent, handsome and she admired how fun he was. His warm brown eyes were almost familiar, his tanned skin was beautiful, his dark, messy hair that was haphazardly thrown into a small, even messier ponytail and the small amount of stubble on his chin was absolutely something Eliza could mark down as attractive. Eliza hoped that she could get to know him better, and also hoped perhaps he could help her break out of her shell.

“Mar?” Eliza inquired quietly, tapping her friend’s arm gently. “Mar...”

The girl stirred before looking up and taking a moment to focus on Eliza. “Hmm? Wha—oh, hey ‘liza,” Maria mumbled blearily, but with a tender smile. “You okay? Is the party over?”

“The party’s not over until every last one of these stoners has gotten the hell out of my dorm,” Eliza groaned, and Maria snickered. She hesitated for a few seconds, and then asked “Is it... okay if I, um, join you three?”

“Don’t even ask, just get in here,” Maria said, glowing. Eliza beamed back. “You’ll probably have more luck trying to squeeze in next to me than at the end there with Freckles’ annoying legs taking up the entire room.”

She scooted into Alexander slightly, who barely even stirred and made room for the other girl. Eliza climbed in next to her best friend and leaned into her side; she loved how warm she was.

She didn’t know when she fell asleep, but when she woke up the next morning, she was in her own bed. Maria, Alexander and John had somehow found their way back to their own rooms, and the rest of the guests had dissipated as well, which meant Angelica had finally kicked their asses out. Eliza made a mental note to thank her for that.

She didn’t get up right away, though—she stared up at the ceiling, thinking about how things had changed, were changing, and would change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow this dumb story has gotten such positive feedback, I've actually been grinning to myself like an idiot in class all day and people are starting to get concerned. 


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the Schuyler's party in Alexander's POV, and Alexander officially meets Angelica Schuyler and Voltron. Also school starts. FuN!!!1!

“I. Hate. _Everything_.”

“So you’ve said,” John grumbled. Both were bedridden with the worst hangovers of their lives. Needless to say, neither had any tolerance for _anything_ , especially the other’s complaining, which they both seemed intent on doing.

“How did we even get back to the dorm, again?” Alexander mumbled.

“Herc and Laf carried us back.” Alexander couldn’t remember anything after meeting Eliza Schuyler, Maria Lewis and a shit-ton of alcohol.

“ _Why did I drink so much_?” he groaned mostly to himself, but John replied anyway.

“I don’t know! I can’t remember jack shit, either!”

Thankfully, none of the boys had bothered to open the blinds after truth or dare yesterday, so they were safe from the sunlight that was no doubt the bane of several other hungover students’ existences.

“Alex, sometimes I wish I listened to Angelica’s incessant nagging. She always tells me not to drink my weight’s worth, but I lose myself around alcohol.” John’s tone was still mostly groaning, but Alexander could tell he felt genuinely guilty.

“It’s okay, dude. If anything, this hell we’re both frolicking in can serve as a lesson, I guess. A lesson learned the hard way is still a lesson learned.”

“First of all, neither of us are frolicking anywhere, likely for at least two days. Second, you sound like a wise old sage. Or my mom, after I fucked up.”

“I’m glad to know I remind you of your mom,” Alex replied, though still in painful moans, attempting at some humour to lighten the mood. “Do you see me as a motherly figure, Jonathan?”

“Jonathan’s not even my real name. It’s Joannatrice.”

“J- _Joannatrice_?” Alex sputtered gleefully.

“I’m kidding, fucktard. It’s just John,” he laughed heartily for the first time all day. “Though my family calls me ‘Jack’. But you’re not allowed to call me that.”

 _My mother called me ‘Petit Lion’._ “My dad just called me ‘disappointment’.”

John didn’t seem to notice the use of past-tense, and barked out a laugh before his hands shot to his head in a meek attempt to massage the throbbing headache away, and groaned again.

“Stupid party,” he grumbled. “Stupid party and its stupid, glorious Sam Adams.”

“Who’s Sam Adams?” Alex mumbled.

“Sam Adams is alcohol.”

“You name your alcohol...?”

“No! Sam Adams is the _brand_ of alcohol!”

“Well how was I supposed to know that?”

“I dunno, it’s just common knowledge, I guess!” Laurens retorted.

“Well not in povertized countries, it’s not!” Alex snapped.

As if the air had been sucked out of the room, Alexander felt his lungs fail and he instantly regretted what he’d said. He wanted to shrink until he reached nonexistence or for a nice little meteor to strike earth and wipe out humanity. Alexander didn’t believe in god, but in that moment, decided to pray anyway.

 _Dear god, please let this not be real. Please let this all be a dream. I’ll do anything_ — _I’ll revert to Christianity, I’ll become a priest, I’ll become your next messiah. I will deliver the utmost wishes of Jesus Christ himself_ —

“...w-what?” John inquired feebly.

_Shit. Fuck. Why has god forsaken me?_

“Nothing. It’s nothing. I didn’t say anything.”

Alex could practically hear the thoughts in the other boy’s brain. _He came from nothing. How pathetic. He shouldn’t be here... he doesn’t belong here._ Or maybe those were just his own thoughts about himself.

John murmured something Alex couldn’t hear.

“What?”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry... I-I didn’t know... I...” He let out a shaky breath. “...wow. Just, wow. I fucked that up hard. I’m r-really really sorry, Alexander. God, I fuck everything up. I get if you don’t want to be friends anymore, or want to switch dorms. I don’t blame you. Thanks for tolerating me as long as you did, though...” John slowly swung his legs over his side of the bed (which he’d never made) and attempted to stand. After a few tries, he prevailed, and started towards the door.

“Hey, John, what do you think you’re doing?” Alex asked hastily.

“I dunno. I’ll just hang out at Laf and Herc’s dorm for a bit... I’m sorry—”

“Quit apologizing!” he demanded, and jumped up faster than he should have so as to try and stop Laurens from leaving and screwing over their entire friendship before it had barely even started. As a result of his nasty hangover, he instantly lost his balance and fell. Except he didn’t hit the floor.

Alexander didn’t even realize his eyes were clenched shut until he opened them, and John’s nose was only a few inches from his face, and his arms were wrapped around his waist. John had caught him.

He didn’t hear John move, but the distance between the door and his bed would have required him to move rapidly.

They stared at each other for a brief moment, not saying anything, both of their mouths parted slightly out of shock. It hit Alex right then and there how absolutely stunning John’s eyes were, before processing the whole situation and scrambling out of his grasp. Instantly after the contact was broken, the silence and staring had been resumed, and Alex cleared his throat hastily, a light blush rising to his cheeks.

“U-uh, as I was saying,” he maintained, desperately searching for his clever words that were _failing him currently_.

 _Fine, if I can’t have my intelligence, I’ll just be confident_ , he concluded. He straightened his back and replaced the awkward stammering to undaunted stammering. Or tried to, anyway. While he tried to sort himself out, John continued to analyze him curiously. _Was_ that even curiosity? Alexander couldn’t even _tell_ what kind of expression he was making. It looked mostly like shock, though. Alexander ignored the prominent blush from earlier on John’s face.

Nevertheless, he silently and patiently awaited Alexander’s response.

“Right! Uh, you’re not a fuckup!”

John looked like he was trying to ask _what the fuck?_ with his eyes, while Alexander’s inner thoughts included, _holy damn, you’re a disaster! Haha, wow!_

“In fact, you’re far from one!” Alex continued gracelessly. “I just met you yesterday, but I decided as soon as I saw your awesome protest posters, you were a cool guy... and then I met you in person, and you were even cooler! My point is, er, I’m not mad at you or anything, I don’t resent you—” _I probably couldn’t, even if I tried, you’re too pure_ “—and you totally had no idea that I—well, uh... you get what I’m saying. You don’t have to go anywhere, and I’d really like if we remain friends. S-so, um, can you please say _something_?”

John hesitated before speaking.

“You’re not...? Alex, if you don’t like me anymore, you don’t need to pretend for politeness’ sake—”

“John Laurens, I’m a lot of things, but a liar is not one of them!”

John instantaneously threw his hands up in contradiction to Alex’s statement.

“No! No, no no! That wasn’t what I meant! Shit! I’m sorry! Uh, I just meant, like—”

“You don’t think I’m a liar?” Alexander cut across.

John vehemently shook his head. “No, of course not!”

“Then you don’t have any reason not to believe what I’m saying. I still like you, I still want to be your friend, I still want you to be _my_ friend. Is that okay?”

John opened his mouth and then closed it again. He seemed to be having trouble formulating words, much like Alex was a few moments ago, so he decided on just nodding with a growing smile on his lips. Like yesterday as well, John Laurens’ happiness was absolutely contagious, and then Alex was grinning like a loon, too. And then he was laughing.

“What? What’s so funny?” John giggled.

“I don’t even know,” Alex laughed, as he sank down to the ground. “Just, we’re both so hungover and overemotional, and we were literally about to _deadass_ throw away this day-old companionship because of _Sam Adams_. I’m so sorry, Laurens.”

“Me too, Faucette,” he said with a content smile, as he joined Alexander on the ground.

And that’s where Hercules and Lafayette found them a few hours later; lying on the ground in a pile of John’s hoodies and instant noodle package wrappers.

“Dieu merci école n'a pas encore commencé, pour l'amour de ces idiots.”

( **_Thank god school hasn’t started yet, for the sake of these idiots._ ** )

“What?”

 

***

 

Nearly a month since the party and the Revolutionary Set’s (Lafayette’s choosing) official meeting. School had started, and teachers were remaining somewhat lenient on the workload _for now_ , so as to let the students adjust to the new system.

Alexander and John were growing closer by the day. Not exactly best-friends-for-life level of close, but they enjoyed each other’s company over most others’, and even had a few inside jokes. John had also insisted on developing a secret handshake, which confused Alex, but John said “ _ju_ _st trust me_ ,” so who was he to argue? They had a handshake that they both messed up everytime they performed it, but neither failed to initiate it whenever they saw each other after having spent time apart. Lafayette and Hercules called it stupid and childish, but Alexander _knew_ they were just jealous they didn’t have a handshake, and John agreed wholeheartedly. Their suspicions were confirmed when they caught them a few days later, trying to come up with their own.

Alexander discovered that he shared classes with several of his acquaintances, such as pre-law with Laurens, Angelica, James Madison and some guy called Thomas Jefferson (who James was with at the Schuylers’ party), liberal studies with Eliza, Laurens and Maria, creative writing with Angelica and James, civil engineering and society with Eliza, and none of his friends in honours economics with him. Alex was disappointed that he didn’t have Hercules or Lafayette in a single one of his classes, and when he told them this, they were flattered but (and in direct quotations from Laf,) ‘ _I would rather gouge my own eyes out with a rusty spoon and eat them in sushi—I hate sushi—than suffer through one of John Adams’ lectures on where to put a comma and where not to put capital letters_ ,’ to which Hercules agreed.

One of the highlights of the week had definitely been officially meeting Angelica Schuyler, who had apparently already made an impression on when he was shitfaced at her party. Peggy told him that she actually found his rap amusing, but would die before she admitted it to anyone. Her eyes were sharp, she was witty, organized and prepared for anything. She looked much like Peggy, with her dark skin and hair, but she wore her curls in a neat bun so tight it _had_ to hurt, and didn’t wear sundresses as often as her sisters did. Every time Alex had seen her, he could have mistaken her for a news reporter. She always wore impossibly-clean button-up shirts, professional-looking skirts or trousers and expensive heels, all with a large pink handbag to go along with it.

Her flawless state made Alexander feel very self-conscious with his one green hoodie that he hardly ever got a chance to wash and ripped jeans (they weren’t ripped for style), and he _knew_ she was judging him.

He was fascinated, though, how the Schuyler sisters grew up under the same roof and managed to be such polar opposites. But even still, they were closer than what Alexander thought was possible, and the best of friends.

Angelica had the intelligence and determination to rival Alexander—they both knew it, but she had yet to display what she was truly capable of... he shook away the thought that she was sparing him. She preferred organization, upheld a respectable (and feared) reputation, and had her future all planned out, probably had been since she could speak. Angelica was fiery and could probably kill a man with a look. He had an enormous amount of respect for her (she pretty much demanded it), and hoped to earn hers in return.

Eliza was clever too, but less vocal about it. In fact, she was less vocal about everything. She was obviously a little anxious and perhaps even a little insecure, but she was among the sweetest people Alexander had ever met in his life. She was kind, beautiful, loving, compassionate and motherly. If he had to choose one word to describe her, it would be celestial. She volunteered at an _orphanage_ , for god’s sake! She preferred the quiet, and would rather hang out with several close friends rather than a whole room of people she hardly knew. She was her own level of beautiful, and he wished she would see that.

Peggy was just so unbelievably _herself_. She didn’t care what anybody else thought, she just spoke her opinions and owned them. She was funny, kind and practically radiated sunshine—Peggy Schuyler was the definition of happy. She liked to go with the flow, and see what the world brought. She was a strong believer in fate, true love and wishes coming true. She was a child at heart and by all accounts, gorgeous, inside and out.

The sisters were truly amazing, and Alex saw a little bit of himself in each of them. He liked the girls already, even though he didn’t know them that well nor had he for that long, but he knew in time, he would love each of them to pieces.

Another highlight of the month was John introducing Alexander to modern television. He had forced him to watch the first episode of Voltron with him, which he _really_ didn’t want to do because he’d _so_ much rather be writing and getting ahead of his classes before they really begun. But when John gave him the classic puppy-dog eyes, Alexander found himself begrudgingly enjoying the show. Not that he’ll tell John that, though.

He made comments throughout the whole episode, such as ‘ _I relate to the big guy with the dumb headband spiritually_ ’, ‘ _his hair is... interesting? Did he bleach the front of it, or something?_ ’ ‘ _why the shit are they just trusting the giant, weaponized feline?!_ ’ ‘ _whoa, space furries!_ ’ ‘ _Lance is stupid_ ’ (John had slapped him lightly across the face for that comment), ‘ _the Australian alien is hot_ ’, and many more. Alexander wouldn’t shut up throughout the whole episode despite John’s attempts to get him to stop talking (several times resorted to pushing him over or physically shutting his mouth), but enjoyed it. When John didn’t play the second one right away, he asked him if he was going to or not, which earned a large smirk from the other boy.

“So you _do_ enjoy Voltron!” he said in triumph.

“Don’t flatter yourself, I’m only in it for the sexy Australian alien,” was Alex’s unconvincing excuse.

It was Friday evening. Their classes were out for the weekend, and Alexander’s unexplainable ability to get four times as much done in the same amount of time as the average human being trumped, and all his homework was completed, essays finished and tutorial handed in, and he expected to get A+’s for his efforts. So he was sat on his bed, typing away about all the ways certain universities could improve their registration systems.

Meanwhile John, who hadn’t started any of his work, lazily twirled his instant noodles on the end of his fork as animated explosions filled his laptop screen. It was driving Alexander crazy—how could someone be so _neglectful_ of their work? He had to put a stop to this.

“Hey... John?”

“Yo,” he responded absentmindedly.

“Don’t you, like. Have a project due at 12am?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Have you gotten much progress done on it?”

“I haven’t started yet.”

“You—you haven’t—I-I can’t... John, it’s nearly 4pm!”

“Which leaves a whole eight hours to do it.”

“I feel like your education takes priority over Voltron blowing space furries up.”

“Wrong. Voltron blowing space furries up takes priority over _all_.”

Alex couldn’t take much more of this. When _he_ relaxed, he was still working. He couldn’t fathom the unproductivity. He would go insane.

And as if on cue, John’s phone buzzed. He picked it up and read the text nonchalantly. “Oh, hey, ‘lex, Peggy wants to know if we want to hang out with the squad. You interested?”

“Sorry, no, I have work to do. And so do you, dipshit!”

“They’re grabbing coffee together,” Laurens added convincingly.

The only thing that could get Alexander moving faster than the promise of writing time was coffee. He _lived_ on the stuff. His bloodstream was about 94% caffeine. And he’d only had two cups today, so what was the harm in a third?

“Okay, fine, but only for coffee. I don’t usually make exceptions such as this, my dear Laurens, so consider yourself a special case.” John placed his hand to his heart exaggeratedly.

“Alexander, you flatter me,” he pretended to swoon. “Whatever shall we do with you?”

“We’ll ingest more caffeine into my veins, that’s what we’ll do!”

 

***

 

John came from a negative family. His father harassed, put him down, and occasionally resorted to physical punishments in the name of discipline—he had grown cold and stoic after his wife, John’s mother...

Henry Laurens wasn’t the best man to begin with, anyway. He was homophobic, sexist, racist, xenophobic, the whole package. Why a white, wealthy, discriminative businessman married a Puerto Rican girl who was of colour eluded John. It’s not like he married her with any ulterior motives, either—John could recall when he was very young, stumbling into the dining room to see his parents dancing together. They were laughing, stepping on each other’s feet, and being in love. It was one of his few memories of home that provided a glimmer of hope, that his father, the monster who shamed immigrants and members of the LGBT+ community openly, had not always been bad.

His mother was beautiful, with straight brown hair, an abundance of freckles that she passed on to all of her children, and hazel eyes, that only John had. The other kids’ eyes were brown.

But regardless of what once was, after she had died, Henry Laurens lost his light. In South Carolina, and _especially_ the Laurens household, being gay was a disease. An illness. As a result of growing up in a hyper-religious environment, John was convinced he was going to hell for who he was, ever since his first crush on a boy at the young age of nine. So as he grew older, he did whatever he had to do to ‘cure’ his homosexuality, even if it required sleeping around with women.

It never worked. Afterwards, it always left him feeling gross and dissatisfied. If anything, it made John’s desire to be with a man, to love and be loved by a man, even stronger. As a result, he had concluded to remain closeted forever, and take his greatest shame with him to the grave.

He watched attendants at the Pride parade with unmeasurable jealousy. How they could flaunt their sexuality so openly, so bravely, it mystified John. He wanted nothing more in the entire world to be able to go someday, and not as an 'ally'. He wanted to be able to shout from the rooftops, " _I'm gay, everybody! I'm a flaming homosexual and I seriously want to put a guy's dick in my mouth!_ " (Not that he would, but anything along the lines of it that was subtle and got the message across, he would definitely have considered.)

John had worked his way through depression by himself, and decided that he never wanted anyone to have to feel as empty and alone as he did. So he put in every scrap of effort he could muster, and worked on being happy in a house where happiness went to die. A place where a single man's voice sucked up all the happiness out of the room. Every person he met always commented, ‘you’re so happy! How do you do it?’ or something of a similar caliber. And that only made John smile wider.

South Carolina had broken, beaten, bruised and spat in the face of John Laurens. When he’d come to New York for high school with his family, it was the first step in leaving his homophobia-infested life behind. The next was getting away from his family. After high school, his father insisted on returning back home to finish his studies there, so he could be with them and his ‘girlfriend’, Martha Manning. Martha loved him, but John did not love her. However, his father expected John to be the perfect son, who was ready to marry and bed a woman quickly after his education. But he couldn’t do that. So John came out to his father (in all honesty, what was he expecting, though? He’d seen John with self-painted glittery fingernails, skin care facemasks gifted to him by Martha for his birthday, and choose reality trash TV over  _Call of Duty_. Plussed alongside the tight shirts and jeans he liked to wear, John looked like a walking stereotype).

He’d been disowned for a few months now. (The thought made his body itching to reach under his pillow and smoke away the pot he kept stashed there, but reminded himself that he was trying to break a habit. He still kept it, of course, in case of emergency.) But nobody else needed to know that. Luckily, Henry Laurens had something resembling a heart (perhaps a third lung that allowed him to feel pity?) and agreed to pay for the rest of John’s college tuition. After that, he was on his own. He hadn’t even told Lafayette or Mulligan, his oldest and closest friends. Neither did Alexander, the boy John could feel himself developing a _slight_ attraction to.

It had all started that damn morning after the damn party, when he was being overdramatic and got up to leave the room, Alexander tried to follow him, and nearly fell over onto the floor. Hitting his head as hard as he would have, had John not caught him heroically and spectacularly, would have surely resulted in a concussion. And when he’d caught the shorter boy, he looked into Alexander’s eyes, and into his mind for a split second. This was a kid who the world had tried to kill, but failed every time. This was a kid who was relentless, brave and unkillable. The world had brought Alexander in to torture, humiliate and break him, only to realize he was an unstoppable force of nature.

John looked into Alexander’s mind, and he saw himself.  

He wanted to protect him from any more tragedy. He wanted to protect him. In some aspect, it didn’t matter which, John wanted to keep Alexander in his life, no matter what. When he had walked into his dorm room the previous day and saw Alexander for the first time, he felt an immediate pull towards him. He knew little to nothing about him, but intended to break down Alexander’s walls... John wanted to be apart of Alexander’s life, like how Alexander had already made himself apart of his.

John would protect Alexander, no matter what.

 

***

 

“C’mon, ‘lex, they’re not going to wait around forever! Angelica has a schedule as tight as her bun! How long does it take you to change a pair of pants?” John pounded through the bathroom door. Alex had been in there for nearly ten minutes now, and John needed to pee.

“John! Jesus Christ! Have some _patience_!” he shouted back. John groaned theatrically and moved away from the door and flopped onto his bed. Instinctively, he began scrolling through his phone, keeping a watchful eye out for any jokes he might want to steal and take credit for. When he stumbled across good ones, the appropriate action was to send them to his most pun-intolerant friends.

**a_turtle_:)**

_hey mully_

 

**HORSEFUCKER**

_never call me that_

_also what_

 

**a_turtle_:)**

_what did the french trademark lawyer say to his wife_

 

**HORSEFUCKER**

_john i actually swear to god_

 

**a_turtle_:)**

_je_ _TM_

 

**HORSEFUCKER**

_blocked_

 

John cackled and sent out another text.

 

**a_turtle_:)**

_hey angie_

 

She didn't reply right away, so he texted her a few more times.

 

**a_turtle_:)**

_angie_

_hey angelica schuyler_

_heeeeyyyy_

 

**A.Schuyler**

_John, what do you want? I’m working right now, and Eliza and Peggy are waiting for you and Alexander at Starbucks. What’s taking you two so long?_

 

**a_turtle_:)**

_alex is conquering all of greece in the bathroom_

_also it never ceases to amuse me how you text with full punctuation_

 

**A.Schuyler**

_Fuck you_

 

**a_turtle_:)**

_whoopsy daisy u forgot to put a period at the end of your sentence :(_

 

**A.Schuyler**

_This had better be fucking important, John Laurens._

 

**a_turtle_:)**

_which country has the most birds_

 

**A.Schuyler**

_Indonesia, I believe. Why?_

 

**a_turtle_:)**

_ur wrong_

_its actually portugeese_

 

**A.Schuyler**

_That’s not even a fucking country! It’s a language!_

_I am revoking your rights!_

 

**a_turtle_:)**

_which ones_

 

**A.Schuyler**

_ALL OF THEM._

_NOW STOP TEXTING ME OR I’LL STEAL AND DESTROY YOUR PHONE._

 

**a_turtle_:)**

_u know for someone who wants to be a lawyer im pretty sure committing such a felony would not look good for u_

 

Angelica did not reply after that.

Finally, Alex burst out from the bathroom. His hair was still messy, his red hoodie that he wore everyday was still tattered and stained, his jeans were still worn from much use.

“What were you even doing in there?” John inquired.

“I was getting ready to go out with the two stooges, the Schuylers and Maria. Though Maria’s attached to Eliza so often she’s pretty much a Schuyler sister, too. Can’t you tell how long I spent on my hair?”

“Alexander, I mean no offense when I say you look exactly the same as you always do.”

“ _What_ ?! You mean all that effort with the hair gel was for _nothing_?!”

“You’ve got _hair gel_ in? I honestly wouldn’t have guessed, Alex, I’m sorry. I didn’t even know you _owned_ hair gel!”

“It’s yours.”

“You used _my_ hair gel?” John giggled.

“What?” he asked, his eyes narrowing.

“Well, nothing, really. It’s just, that hair gel is _specifically_ designed for curly hair. So you’re gonna be curly later, I guess.” John shoved the thought deep down that was excited to see this catastrophe. Meanwhile, Alex had paled generously.

“Are you shitting me!” he cried as he ran back into the bathroom to inspect the hair gel bottle that he’d paid zero attention to. John was willing to bet he’d seen the words _hair gel_ and decided he’d try it without another thought.

He followed his friend into the small bathroom and rested his elbow on his head and smirked at Alex in the mirror. “Now maybe next time, you’ll ask before you use my shit. Karma is a bitch, my dear Faucette.”

“Alas, my dear Laurens, I suppose I deserve this,” he sighed in defeat, not even bothering to throw John’s arm off as he usually would. “But do I really not look _any_ different? My hair doesn’t even look a _little_ better?” His expression was tired and embarrassed.

“Actually, looking at it up close, it _does_ look tidier,” John lied, removing his arm from the literal head-rest and pretended to inspect his hair. Alexander visibly brightened and smiled at himself in the mirror.

“Success! At least it wasn’t a complete failure!” he triumphed excitedly. “Now come, my dear Joannatrice! We have places to be!”

“Alright, 'lex, but I’m gonna use the bathroom real quick. So get out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright this chapter that was MOSTLY filler, yes I know, I'm sorry. But I liked it, so here y'all go. :)  
> Okay I didn't mention it last time because I was in a hurry to upload the last chapter, but honestly I cherish Maria and Alexander's friendship. Thank you, this has been a PSA.  
> So yes this is going to be real slowburn, so I'm sorry for any anger I cause anybody because these characters are idiots. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ Also as you may or may not be able to tell, I've kind of started it out where Maria already has a small crush on Eliza, heheh. bleSs  
> Also I'm sorry to anyone who doesn't watch Voltron: Legendary Defender (HIGHLY RECOMMENDED, 13/10) and won't understand all my dumb references.  
> Thank you again for all the feedback I've been receiving, the fact that my trash made somebody happy is pushing me to continue this. :D Stay flamin' y'all  
> \- Blue


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alexander suspects Eliza has some sort of attraction towards him, and decides to test it. Angelica gets pissed.

Alexander refused to take the elevator, so he dragged John down the stairs instead. His only excuse was ‘I don’t trust them. They’re big metal boxes of death,’ and refused to elaborate further. He also apparently didn’t know how to use a taxi.

When he started to walk down the street, John offered to flag one and save them some time, but Alex insisted it was a nice day and they should walk, to which John shrugged and reluctantly agreed. So they walked the twenty minutes to the shop everybody was meeting at.

The conversation topic drifted freakishly smoothly to how alligators would wear pants, if pigeons had feelings, Trump’s latest scandal to whether Android or Apple was better (they were both for Android, so it was mostly them bashing Apple relentlessly for seven and a half minutes). The twenty minutes had only felt like two minutes, and they had suddenly arrived at the designated Starbucks.

“I don’t like Starbucks very much,” Alexander sighed. “Everything here is kind of tasteless and way overpriced. This store is overrated. If you ask me and my otherworldly amount of coffee knowledge and opinions that have never been wrong, _Abraço_ is where it’s at.”

John was about to call Alex a heathen for daring to disgrace his precious frappuccinos, when their names were called from a familiar voice behind them.

“John! Alexander!” Peggy screeched. “God, _finally_! What took you so long?”

Maria and Eliza were giggling about something to each other, while Angelica tapped busily away at her phone and said 'Hey, guys,' monotonously and didn’t spare them even a distracted glance.

“Hair gel is what took us so long,” Alex answered simply as he pulled up two chairs for himself and John.

“Hair gel...?”

“Yup. What, can’t you tell?” he grinned proudly. The girls exchanged confused glances, and John shot them a wink and mouthed the words ‘humour him’, as Alexander wasn't looking. Peggy and Maria seemed at a loss for ideas, Angelica didn’t care, but Eliza’s eyes lit up in understanding.

“Oh, yes, your hair is lovely, Alexander,” she smiled warmly. Then the other two got the hint and played along as well.

“Uh, yeah, I just couldn’t see it all in there for a sec... weird lighting and all,” Peggy said.

“It looks good, Alex!” Maria nodded in agreement. Alexander was positively beaming.

“By the way, what’s all the sudden interest in taking care of your hair? You never did before,” John mentioned, and turned to the girls. “Seriously, during the first week of school, he left the door looking like a literal rat’s nest—”

“Thank you, John,” Alexander said sharply. “And to answer your question, Joannatrice, I felt like being sexier than I already am. Something you wouldn’t understand—”

“Hey!”

“—because you’re _always_ sexy.”

“Oh.”

He felt his face heating up, and Peggy and Maria giggled at him. Eliza just let out a small breathy sound which could have been laughter, but John wasn’t sure. Angelica finally put her phone down to engage in the conversation.

“Thank god that’s over and done with,” she sighed contentedly.

“What is?” Alexander inquired.

“Aaron Burr... he tried flirting with me over text, which is somehow even worse than when he attempts it face-to-face.”

“So why’d it take so long to block his number?” asked Peggy.

“Oh Peggy,” Angelica said, placing her hand on the younger girl’s shoulder, “dear, young, sweet, innocent Peggy. When you get hit on by boys, you have to verbally assassinate them first and destroy their will to live, _then_ block their number. It decreases the chances of them trying it again by 95%.”

“What’s the other 5%?” Peggy asked.

“More like who. Aaron _fucking_ Burr, and Thomas _fucking_ Jefferson.”

“Wait, isn’t T-Jeffs dating James Maddie?” Maria piped up.

“As far as I know, nothing’s official, but they’re definitely into one another. If I were to guess, he’s probably just flirting with Angie because he gets a kick out of it,” Peggy the gossip guru spoke wisely.

 

***

 

Alexander was not one to pick any entertainment from gossiping (unless it involved someone he disliked personally), so hoisted himself up from the table and wandered over to the counter to order his coffee; everyone was so engrossed in James and Thomas’ love life, they didn’t notice him get up and walk away. It wasn’t _that_ fascinating, was it?

He turned around to observe the delighted expressions everyone wore, except for Eliza, who he had just caught staring at him—right away, she whipped her head to the side, a blush dusting her soft cheeks.

_Aww, that’s so cute. Wait, is she into me? I should put her to the test..._

It was his turn in line to order.

The barista had slightly tanned skin with a light dusting of freckles on her nose and had dark brown eyes; she was absolutely pretty, there was no denying it. He couldn’t dismiss how attractive her body was, either, and had to push away several uninvited and _less than pure_ thoughts.

_She kind of looks like the female version of a certain other freckled companion of mine_ , he noted.

Luckily she looked around his age, so he figured he didn’t need to worry flirting about with a fifteen year old and about getting the cops called on him.

“Hi!” she greeted cheerily. “What can I get for you today, sir?”

“Black mocha, please,” he said with his flirtiest smile. And loud enough for anyone at his table to hear, he finished, “...and the name of the lovely girl in front of me.”

That same smile had captured the hearts of quite the handful of girls in Alexander’s younger days. Luckily, it had its intended effect, and he noticed the girl gasp silently before shooting her head to look away so as to avoid meeting Alexander’s eyes.

“Um. E-Erin,” she said, almost in a whisper after trying to recover from the shock he hit her with. “U-um, that’ll be $3.49, uh...?”

“Alexander,” he smiled, trying to go for sexy. Extra points when he ran his hand through his hair and pretended his intention was pushing loose strands back. He suddenly realized that he hadn’t pulled out his wallet yet. He inwardly kicked himself for letting the smooth façade drop, but figured he could work it in.

“Oh, sorry, hang on, let me grab my wallet... though I do admit, I’m not surprised I got distracted, after having gotten lost in your eyes,” he winked. _Nice save_ , Alexander congratulated himself.

The girl flushed deeper as she awkwardly held out the scanner, and Alexander swiped his card through the designated slot. It beeped disapprovingly, alerting them both that the transaction was not completed. _Damn these dumb things._

He tried again twice more, both times failing.

“Do you want me to do it?” Erin grinned shyly.

“Please,” Alex sighed in defeat, handing her the card.

He was killing it. Saying all the right things, initiating all the right moves; he even made himself look adorably clueless with the scanner, which girls tended to find very cute. If he did any better, Erin would probably be inviting him over tonight, and he felt himself become a little excited at the thought. When her head was down, he sneakily cast a glance over at his shoulder at his table—Eliza was staring at her lap, looking rather disappointed, possibly confirming his suspicions.

He noticed John looking at him in amusement and shot him a supportive thumbs-up, replacing the let-down expression so quickly, Alexander wasn’t even sure it had ever been there. Maybe he had seen it because he wanted to see it—he enjoyed admiration from anyone.

“Here’s your card back, Alexander,” Erin said quietly before rushing over to the other side of the space behind the counter to fix his drink up. He walked back to the table his friends were occupying to wait for his drink among company.

“You and the girl behind the counter got along famously,” Angelica stated sharply before Alexander or anyone else could even get a word out. She was back on her phone, and didn’t look up from it.

“Oh, yeah, definitely. Her name’s Erin—she’s really cool,” he grinned. Angelica glanced at Alexander with an anger that was indubitably provoked by him. At the look, he felt a pang of hurt.  _Good job, stupid, she hates you now._

Was it because of the barista? What reason had Angelica to be upset about that?

“That’s wonderful,” she said before her eyes flitted back down to the device.

“Did I do something wrong?” he asked, masking any self-doubt with his genuine confusion instead.

“No.” Her tone spoke otherwise. The room seemed quieter without their table’s laughter filling it. Probably because it was. The tension was absolutely suffocating.

“If I did something that bothered you, why don’t you just tell me?”

“Alexander, please fuck off,” Angelica said. What was going on? Angelica was the voice of reason! She was getting defensive and losing her ability to calmly work things out.

“ _Angie_...!” Eliza whispered, taken aback.

Alexander had tried to be patient. Now he was pissed off.

“Well how _rude_ of me for trying to sort out an issue with my friend that can surely be solved quite easily! Also hey, it’s sorta rude to listen in on other people’s conversations,” he countered, pretending he hadn’t intended for them to be able to hear. All he wanted to do was make the barista blush and see if Eliza got jealous—he didn’t want to _upset_ her, and anger Angelica.

Everyone else had yet to say a word, but Alexander noticed their expressions change—to shock or fear, he couldn’t tell. It seemed like a little of both. After all, no one talked to Angelica Schuyler like that and lived to tell the tale.

“Well _excuse me_ , it’s a little hard not to when you’re talking loud enough to show off your _classy_ pick up lines to the whole shop,” she quipped, standing up. Angelica wouldn’t tolerate being talked down to. Unfortunately for the other shop patrons, neither did Alex.

“What, is me flirting with her _bothering_ you or something?” he asked with bitterness stinging his tone as he stood up, too. “Why do you _care_?”

“It’s annoying,” she hissed. She was daring him to get angrier.

John tugged his sleeve lightly. “Alex, hang on a sec—”

“How exactly is it annoying?!” he snapped, ignoring John. “I’m just living my own life! You don’t have to hang around me if you’re so repulsed by what I do!”

Peggy and Maria had stood up at this point.

“Don’t talk to her like that!” Peggy cried, obviously trying to will herself to look angry, but had failed and she looked more worried than anything. People were staring.

“You know _what_?” Angelica spat furiously, leaning across the table to Alex. “I think I’ll do just that. I cannot, and will not disgrace myself by associating with someone of your pretentiousness, arrogance and ignorance.”

On that note, she snatched up her bag and stalked out of the shop without a second glance.

“Angie! _Angelica_!” Peggy called, running after her sister, Eliza close behind and Maria following suit. So John and Alexander were left alone.

Angelica Schuyler and Alexander Hamilton were so similar in personality, he had assumed they’d grow to be close friends. But instead of joining forces seamlessly, as he had hoped they would, they clashed. And when fire clashes with fire, the end result is only more chaos.

John must not have known what to do, because for a moment he just sat there blankly, trying to process the situation. Alexander sat, and thought about what he’d done. The longer he contemplated his choices and the words he said, he felt more and more guilty.

“Oh my god, John, what did I just _do_?” he whined, dropping his face into his hands, tempted to just left himself fall down onto the table so he’d smack his head. So he did. He was thankful that it hurt. “The first time I’ve ever had friends, and I’ve already fucked it up.”

John snapped out of his trance, and immediately placed a reassuring hand on his friend’s shoulder—Alex appreciated the gesture very much.

“Alex—”

“Black mocha for Alexander!” Erin called.

The man in questioned sighed and hoisted himself up, but John forced him back down into his seat and told him he’d grab the drink himself. He returned a few seconds later and set the steaming cup down in front of Alex, who gratefully thanked him and took a long sip. The beverage was bitter and hot, but it was good.

“C’mon,” John said, tugging him up, “let’s go somewhere.”

“Where?”

“I dunno. I think I have a place in mind. Does it particularly matter?”

“I mean, that sort of depends on—” John placed his hand over Alexander’s mouth.

“I’ma stop you right there. Now come with your pal Joannatrice, and we’ll work this out. Okay?”

“Okay,” he said a laugh so small, it was debatable that it had ever even existed.

John threw his arm around Alexander’s shoulders and led them out without another word. Neither of them cast another glance at Erin.

He didn’t ask anymore questions as to where they were going. John never removed his arm from Alexander’s shoulders, so it would take incredible effort for either to get lost in the New York crowds, much less even separated.

Alexander and John had many things in common, but less specifically so when it came to their childhoods. But one thing they could both relate to was being touch-starved.

Alexander’s mother died when he was twelve, so there went his only outlet for hugs and cuddles and kisses on top of his head. His brother James had never been a very touchy guy, and the first time he said no to a hug was the last time Alex ever asked; his cousin Peter had never really been home long enough for Alex to even get to know him, and committed suicide not much time after, solidifying the fact that he never would. Without any other friends and family to rely on, he quickly came to accept the fact that he was just meant to be alone. If he wasn’t, would the world have tried to kill him repeatedly, taking everything and everyone he ever knew and loved in the process?

John’s mother died when he was eleven, and his father had never been very affectionate, which showed on his other children. John was a physical person, and wanted to be physically comforted like his mother had done before she passed; but as a result of Henry Laurens’ emotional neglect, none of his siblings knew how, nor did they want to learn. And a few months ago, Henry Laurens had disowned him for good after having come out to him as gay. So that was the end of any contact he had with his family. That was the end of any hope of ever getting another hug from his baby sister Mary Eleanor, his well-behaved brothers, James and Henry Jr., and his lovely lady of a sister, Martha.

But Henry Laurens had gone out of his way to isolate John from his siblings and any old friends he might have had. (Not that the list was very long, but growing up, Martha had been his best friend for many years, and now he’d never see her again; however, the year before college, they started dating. John didn't know why—he knew Martha liked him, and when she told him how she felt, he just didn't say no. But after revolting against the tyrant that was his father, he had threatened to tell his siblings what he _was_ unless he called her and told Martha they were over.

The Schuyler Sisters were over every few months and had been so for as long as he could remember, because Philip Schuyler and John’s father were close business partners, and they could not be gotten rid of so easily. After all, Henry Laurens cherished his job over all else, including his children.

And Hercules and Lafayette saved the majority of their affectionate contact for each other, anyway (he didn’t know if it was platonic or whatever else, but he would in all honesty, be more surprised if it turned out to be the former).

Alexander and John had been touching more regularly after having met. It wasn’t much, just a small shoulder squeeze, a pat on the back or gentle brushing up against the other to see what their limits were, to see how far they were allowed to go before it bordered uncomfortable. Even though neither of them ever thought the slightest glimmer of anything that wasn’t pleasant. They were both very excited about exploring the others’ boundaries, because oh wow, here was a guy who wasn’t revolted by their inability to keep their hands to themselves. They were both touchy, and both needed to be touched. It went unspoken, but it was something they were both happy with.

The walk to wherever was cordial. John and Alexander's footsteps were in sync by accident, and the height difference between them while John had his arm lazily thrown over Alexander's shoulders made for an odd sort of comfort that he felt deep in his belly, similar to the one he felt briefly around Erin and previous girlfriends. He didn't understand it, but refused to push it aside, so he dwelled on it for the entire walk.

_What the hell? What is that? Why won't it go away? I only ever get that feeling around girls! What the hell?_

When John and Alexander finally arrived at a small park, clouds had drifted through the sky and covered up the sun, resulting in a darker day than it had been thirty minutes ago. A small group of children were tossing a frisbee to each other with a dog that nipped playfully at their ankles, young couples strolled through with their hands intertwined, families relaxed underneath large trees with blankets and companions.

“Uh, John? Why are we at the park?”

John shrugged. “It’s kinda nice. Besides, we’re gonna talk about what to do about Angelica, aren’t we?”

Alexander’s heart sank at the mention of Angelica’s name, and what he remembered having said to her echoed in his mind—" _You don’t have to hang around me if you’re so repulsed by what I do!"_ His heart fell even lower as a new, fresh pang of guilt stabbed at it.

“Oh. Yeah, right. Okay.”

John’s arm slipped from Alex’s shoulders so he could look him in the eyes, even while they were walking.

_No, don’t go_ , he thought sadly.

“Look, Alex, I know it sucks to think about, because it sucks to have happened. But you want to figure this shit out so you and Angie can be friends again, right?” Alexander nodded, which was answer enough for Laurens. “Good. Hey, c’mere, let’s sit down.”

He pulled Alex down onto the nearest unoccupied bench that he hadn’t even noticed before.

“So.”

“So.”

They stared at each other with exaggerated intensity before cracking up into giggles like fifth-grade girls. Their friends would say they had the maturity of such, too.

“Dude, if you look at me like that, we’ll just be here cackling for like, four days, before we actually talk about anything productive,” John laughed.

“Four days alone in the park with my dearest Joannatrice Whatever-Your-Middle-Name-Is Laurens? That doesn’t sound bad to me at all.”

“Grow up, Ham, let’s be serious,” John said with a final chuckle, replacing his sunny expression with a gentle and compassionate one and much calmer than the previous. “Alright, so let’s get this straight—”

_I’m not_ , John joked in his head before inwardly slapping the shit out of himself.  _No! Shut the fuck up! You're straight!_

“—you and Angie were both being asshats. I don’t really know what her deal was, she never freaks out like that. And one out of those three things she called you don’t make sense to me. Pretentious? Yeah, kinda—”

“Hey!”

“—arrogant? Absolutely—”

“Wow, what the fuck, John!”

“—but ignorant? I dunno, you’re not exactly the ignorant type. So what is it that you were being ignorant of? Angelica always has reasoning and point to her insults. Trust me, I know her. Also after having been the target of which since we were like, babies... helps with firsthand experience.”

Alexander pondered on John’s words. What had he been ignorant of? John was right about him not being the ignorant type—usually, he was one of the most observant people he knew. (He didn’t know a lot of people personally, but that was besides the point. He was very observant. A childhood on Nevis consolidated that.)

“I honestly don’t know,” he answered lamely.

“Hmm,” John sighed. “Well, whatever. What you’ve got to do is just apologize, no matter what happened. Maybe she attacked first, and maybe she was in the wrong, but that’s the way it is with women. Well, no, that’s sexist. Not all women. Just this woman. Just apologize, beg for her forgiveness, and it’ll be all good.”

"Are you sure?" Alexander asked doubtfully. "It'll seem like a pretty pathetic apology if I don't even know what I'm apologizing  _for_."

"Trust me, Hamilton—I've known Angelica Schuyler since preschool, and she's always been the same. If you apologize, she'll feel like she's won a battle of some sort. It satisfies her when someone can admit to mistakes, which means she'll do the same."

"Really?" he asked hopefully.  _Maybe I can still save this_.

"Definitely," John smiled kindly.

They initiated their dumb secret handshake, once again screwing it up. But that was okay. 

 

***

 

Angelica Schuyler had royally screwed up.

Alexander Hamilton, the boy with passionate eyes that just screamed intelligence, the messy hair that was obnoxiously always so, the peach-fuzz that he could never seem to grow out and a verbose, temperamental personality, had stolen the eldest of the Schuyler sisters’ affection without permission.

Angelica had a crush on Alexander, but the night after that party she held, Eliza said to her and Peggy, ‘ _So, um, Alex Hamilton is certainly something, isn’t he?_ ’

Peggy had exclaimed, ‘ _Oh, he’s such a charm! Solid 7 out of 10, and that’s just ‘cuz I don’t know him very well, yet. If I were any less gay than I just so happen to be, I’d prolly be into him._ ’

Angelica didn’t admit, that even though he was wasted into oblivion, Hamilton had intrigued something inside of her. The wit he spat when arguing angrily with Thomas Jefferson, even with his inhibitions and logic out of the way. He was indubitably clever, a trait she had always been attracted to. Perhaps even so much so to match herself. Smart, handsome and funny.

‘ _He is quite the catch..._ ’ she had mumbled under her breath, mostly for herself, but had either of her sisters heard, she would have no problem admitting so. Angelica spoke her mind about nearly everything. Who cared if she thought he was attractive? Unfortunately, they hadn’t heard.

And that factor had led to her untimely affliction, when right after, Eliza said, _‘I really like him... I want to get to know him better,_ ’ while blushing and trying to hide a shy smile. Eliza, her baby sister, obviously liked the same boy she did. So in that moment, Angelica made the responsible and selfless decision, and acted like the mature woman she was.

Heart beginning to ache, Angelica smiled. ‘ _You_ like _-like him?_ ’

‘ _No! I just met him, silly_!’ she cried, swatting her arm. _‘But... I could... I definitely could, but like I said, once I get to know him better..._ ’

Even though she immediately knew that this—letting the first boy she’s been attracted to since high school go—would lead to inevitable pain, she loved her sisters more than anything. Anything in this life.

So Angelica stood aside, watching sadly whenever they were around him, and the way she would smile and blush and giggle whenever he paid her compliments. Over the time they spent together, Eliza clearly grew more and more enamoured with Alexander Hamilton—every second she spent with him rendered her helpless. It was plain to see to anyone with two eyes and a functioning brain. Surely even he must have known, so why had he started shamelessly flirting with the barista?

He obviously had no commitment to Eliza, so it was well within his rights to throw on his irresistible charm, pull out the coy grin he had reserved for _Angelica only_ , and bombard the girl with annoyingly smooth pickup lines. It shouldn’t have infuriated her as much as it deeply did, but the way the barista turned red under his words and became defenceless...

For a second, Angelica had thought, _maybe he really just is oblivious. Maybe he just doesn’t notice Eliza’s feelings_.

But the thought was quickly pushed away—Alexander was perceptive. Scarily so, at that. He took careful note of every minor detail and could see the slightest changes in someone’s demeanor, even if it wasn’t physical. Where he had picked up such a skill, Angelica didn’t know. But the way he used it, was she sure she even wanted to know? As well, Alexander snuck subtle glances back at the table—back at Eliza— whenever the opportunity presented itself.

He wanted to make sure she was _watching_. The audacity...

She hadn’t meant to snap. When she did, though, she tried to convince herself she had done it for Eliza. She spat angrily at the boy with her words, though not as vexatious as they should have been, and it was because he was neglecting Eliza’s evident feelings. But she knew it was personal.

She couldn’t stand to just sit and watch him draw in this random girl that clearly, he had no intention of continuing anything with, instead of Eliza.

Instead of _her_.

For the first time ever, Angelica Schuyler had lost her cool, collected temper and then ran away from what she had done.

Peggy, Maria and Eliza had instantly chased after her, which was unsurprising. Her sisters were just as dedicated to her as she was to them (and wherever Eliza went, Maria was sure to follow. It wasn’t irritable, it was honestly quite adorable).

“Angie! Angelica!” Peggy called concernedly. “Hey, slow down!”

“I’m barely walking, it’s not like I’m running,” Angelica retorted needlessly.

“You’re _speedwalking_. My point is, try to calm down for a minute, ‘kay?” the younger girl replied, quieter now that she had caught up to her sister and was walking beside her. Gentle and less-gentle footsteps trotting up behind the pair alerted them of Maria and Eliza’s presence.

“Are you okay, Ang?” Eliza asked hastily.

“I’m fine, guys! I’m—”

She sighed, letting the tension release from her body and her rigid posture slumping down into a calmer, more relaxed stature.

“I acted very out of line. I’m sorry, Pegs, ‘liza, Mar.”

Peggy kindly took Angelica’s hand and smiled patiently. “It’s okay, Ang. It’s Ham’s fault, too. Don’t worry, we’ll talk to him later. For now, why don’t we all throw in the towel and have a girls’ night?”

The thought warmed her heart. They hadn’t had girls’ night in almost a year. And it would be Maria’s third, maybe fourth girls’ night ever. Besides, she had been stressed lately... with school resuming and the whole Alexander fuckstorm, she could afford to take the evening off.

“Yeah... yeah, okay. I’m sorry for losing my composure, everyone,” Angelica apologized again. Maria shook her head and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t worry, about it, Angie, everyone does it eventually. You just lasted longer than most human beings do.”

The sisters laughed, and Maria smiled at the reaction.

“Thanks, Mar.” Angelica ruffled the girl’s hair affectionately like she did with Eliza and Peggy, and had been doing since they were children. “Where do you all want to go first? Shall we get our nails done, or our hair?”

“Ohhh no,” Eliza said, shaking her head and her raven hair framed her rosy face, “there’s not going to be any money spent on girls’ night this time! Don’t you remember the last girls’ night? My credit card was almost maxed! I propose we go back to the dorm, change into our pyjamas, do each others’ hair, nails and makeup, rent some movies, order a few pizzas and Maria can sleep over.”

It definitely sounded much more domestic, and Angelica’s heart absolutely melted.

“I _love_ that idea,” she smiled genuinely. The other girls agreed.

 

“Isn’t it funny,” Maria giggled, “how you three, like, have your designated colours? ‘Liza’s blue, Peg’s yellow and Angie’s pink—and it wouldn’t be that big of a deal, except how it’s the only colour you wear!”

“ _Lies and slander!_ ” Peggy cried. “I don’t wear _just_ yellow!”

Maria and Eliza were cuddled up at one end of the couch with a fluffy throw blanket while Angelica took the other, where she was hoarding the rest of the pizza, and Peggy was curled up in her small pillow fort that nobody else was allowed in (she had taken apart all of the beds, used several of the kitchen chairs and the armchair to construct it, much to Angelica’s annoyance).

“You’re literally wearing yellow pyjamas right now!”

“But I’m also wearing rainbow bracelets! My small gay soul is rainbow by fate.”

Eliza and Maria cackled, and Angelica let out a small hmph to cover giggling.

“Besides, who are you to talk, Lewis? Everything you own is red!”

Her sisters _oooooo’d_. Maria gasped and her eyes instinctively shot down to her red clothes.

“No! I have an assortment of colours, you heathens! This is just a coincidence!”

“‘ _An assortment of colours_ ’ my ass! You’ve got maybe like, some black and white things, too, but that’s the extent of it!”

“She’s right, Mar, you do wear a lot of red,” Eliza agreed with a giggly grin. Maria whipped around to her with a shocked expression.

“‘Liza! You traitor! You’re supposed to be on my side!” Eliza didn’t respond with anything except chuckling and nuzzling into Maria’s neck. The latter felt the blush rising up her neck and couldn’t suppress the dopey smile that broke out across her face.

“Gaaay!” Peggy hollered from her fortress.

“You’re one to talk,” Angelica stated plainly, causing them all to laugh.

“Fair enough. Also I’m sorry, but can we just talk about how cute that barista was at the coffee shop earlier? The one Alex was hitting on? I don’t know if this is a sensitive subject because it pissed you guys off, but damn. C’mon. What did he say her name was? Erin?”

The mention of the girl’s name made Angelica bristle. Eliza didn’t seem phased, though.

“I think so, yeah,” she confirmed, not raising her head from her current spot of residence that was Maria’s neck. “She was very pretty. She actually kind of reminded me of John, except a girl.”

Angelica dropped her slice of pizza at the realization, Peggy screamed and Maria nearly fell off the couch.

“OH MY GOD! YOU’RE RIGHT!” the youngest Schuyler shrieked.

John was their oldest friend—their fathers had been close partners in business since before they were even born. He had special, individual relationships with Angelica, Eliza and Peggy each. He was like their official-unofficial brother, and they loved him to death.

He bonded with Angelica over their determined, passionate desire to succeed and conquer the world, Eliza over their appreciation for calm environments and drawing, and Peggy over being excited about anything and everything, and being gay. (Not that John had actually told them he was gay, but they all knew it.)

“I’d just like to bring up, we’re all fully aware that John is absolutely, without a doubt, 100% gay, right?” Angelica giggled once the others had relaxed slightly, and all nodded.

“Oh, totally.”

“Yeah, definitely.”

“Why isn’t he out, yet?” Maria inquired. “Like, it’s painstakingly obvious. Just the way he looks at shirtless guys on TV is a dead give away. He basically drools over Chris Pratt.”

“John’s dad is really homophobic,” Eliza answered quietly. “It wouldn’t be a surprise if he’d conditioned John into being embarrassed about his sexuality.”

The other two nodded solemnly. Maria hung her head.

“Wow. That... that sucks. I’m sorry for asking.”

“No, don’t be sorry, it’s okay,” Eliza replied hastily. “It’s not your fault John’s dad is so awful. Out of all three of us,” she gestured to her sisters and herself, “I was Henry Laurens’ favourite because... because I-I’m mostly white. I got the most of dad’s genes, as opposed to mom’s.”

“ _What_?”

“Oh yeah, he’s racist, too,” Peggy piped up. “He never liked our mom because she’s black. He’s also sexist, and xenophobic, and rich. The Laurenses have more money than they know what to do with.”

“I love gossiping about our friends,” Angelica sighed evilly, drawing hearty laughter from Maria and Peggy and soft giggling from Eliza. “Let’s not focus on the depressing topics right now, we can save it for later. It’s girls night. Let’s talk shit about them behind their backs.”

“But that’s so two-faced!” Eliza exclaimed.

“It’s all good-natured,” Maria reassured with a grin, squeezing her shoulder.

“Yeah, ‘liza, grow a spine,” Peggy deadpanned.

Eliza huffed, but went ignored.

“Angie! Lay the gossip down!”

Angelica grinned widely. “Okay okay okay. So Lafayette told me, that Hercules’ ex is actually this girl called Kitty—”

“Really? That hoe?” Peggy cried.

“Don’t interrupt!” Maria hushed.

“As I was saying, he dated this girl called Kitty, but she cheated on him with this other guy whose name I forget, and she was a brat, from the sound of it. She would cry whenever she wanted Herc to buy her something, and played the pity card whenever he tried to talk to her about something.”

“Poor Hercules,” Eliza said sadly.

Peggy was cackling. “Poor Hercules indeed! What was he thinking? He can do way better than _Kitty_!”

“Oh, I’ve got something as well!” Maria laughed, and drawing a _‘now we’re getting somewhere!_ ’ from Angelica. “Did you all see the fight between Hamilton and Jefferson at your party before school started?”

‘ _Sit down, frizzy, let me tell you a thing or two about condoning slavery! First things first, fuck you, you sadistic son of a bitch! Secondly, your hair is fucking annoying! Get a damn haircut! Third, they’re people, not objects! Fourth, did I already say ‘fuck you’?’_

_‘You incredulous bastard! Why don’t you take your ten-year-old sweater and shove it up your verbose ass?’_

_‘I have an idea, how about FUCK YOU!_ ’

“How could I forget? His spiel is permanently etched into my brain!” Peggy screeched with laughter.

They all guffawed for a few minutes before being able to speak again.

“I heard that Madison said something about Thomas being pissed—I don’t blame him, if someone utterly humiliated me in front of the entire university, pretty much, I’d be a bit upset, too—and he’s gonna try and get him back...”

“How’s he gonna do that? By convincing him to condone human trafficking or something?” Angelica snarled.

Everyone laughed.

“I love girls’ night,” Eliza sighed.

Nobody could disagree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I know my personal life doesn't matter to y'all but I just want everyone to know I said one of amongst the funniest things I've ever said to my friend today;  
> "Blue, you're so mature!"  
> "Thanks, it was the trauma."  
> My friend was concerned, but I'm hilarious so it's okay.  
> Anyway, chapter five was fun to write; I got more Lams and Marliza in there, and I'm trying to incorporate some Mullette later on, too. I really enjoyed the girls' night scene, as well as the bit in Angelica's POV.   
> Thank you all so much for reading! I appreciate your comments so much!!   
> Which reminds me, special shoutouts to loukreswag, awilc155, AnonReader404, Lafbaguette and awkwardchocolate, you guys are the reason I keep creeping out my friends and family with random blushing and grinning 


	6. Chapter six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peggy's past and Alexander apologizes to Angelica.  
> (WARNING: post depression and suicidal themes.)

Anyone who met her would claim that Peggy Schuyler was the happiest, bounciest and most carefree girl in the entire world. She wore whatever she wanted, she sung wherever and whenever she felt like it, and she went out of her way for manners, even if it meant chasing a random woman three blocks to thank her for holding the door for her yesterday, as she never got the chance to thank her at the time. But the thin lines permanently etched into her soft brown skin were no mistake.

They were so faded, and hardly anybody ever noticed them. Hell, _she_ even forgot they were there from time to time. But there would always be that occasion where someone _did_ notice them, and would stare at the scars, before staring at Peggy as if she were some fragile doll, worthy of their pity and condolences. And it would whip her back to the fourth grade, when Eliza had won the art award, Angelica had won her third spelling bee, and Peggy had won nothing. Sixth grade, when Angelica had made the school volleyball, soccer and basketball team, Eliza had been asked by the principal to help paint a mural for the school foyer, and Peggy was eating lunch alone. Eighth grade, Angelica had her first boyfriend, Eliza had all the kids in class pursuing her, and Peggy was left to struggle with her sexuality by herself.

All throughout high school, Angelica and Eliza had been the top of their class and had things come too easy, but nobody had thought to check on Peggy, who was struggling with depression. All throughout her life, Peggy Schuyler had remained trapped in her older sisters’ shadows. It had always been Eliza, Angelica, _and Peggy_ , if anyone had even remembered her at all.

Make no mistake, she loved them to death. She would relive her worst memories a thousand times over because she got to see them smiling. But sometimes she wondered if they loved her just as much.

_Of course they do_ , she would remind herself. _Don’t you remember the day Eliza noticed the marks lining your arms?_

It had been in the ninth grade, just after dinner, and Angelica was engaged in an intelligent conversation with their father, who had trouble keeping up with the young prodigy. Peggy was trudging up to disappear into her room alone, like she did every night and fidgeting with her sweater sleeves (a nervous habit), when Eliza followed her up the stairs.

‘ _Pegs, I made you something,_ ’ she had said with a shy smile on her face, before presenting a small hand-woven bracelet, just the size of Peggy’s wrist. Eliza made her bracelets all the time. She made everyone bracelets all the time. But it had not belittled the gesture, and Peggy broke out into a genuine smile.

_‘Thank you so much, ‘liza. I love it._ ’ The bracelet was yellow and had flecks of orange that made it look like a sunset. She still had every single bracelet Eliza had ever made her, and still wore them everyday. She took the jewelry from her sister’s gentle hand, gave her another smile and continued back up the stairs.

‘ _Wait, aren’t you going to try it on?_ ’ her sister asked. ‘ _I j-just want to see if it fits._ ’ Eliza worried too much. She had made her so many bracelets, surely she had memorized Peggy’s wrist size by now. So the latter just shrugged, rolled up her sleeve and slipped the yellow band around her arm, and smiled when it fit.

‘ _See? It fits. Thank you, Liz_ ,’ Peggy said, before turning, when her sister quickly grabbed ahold of her hand. Her grip was still gentle, but it was firm. Peggy had forgotten about the band-aids she’d had to apply on her forearm a few days prior.

‘ _What happened? What are the band-aids for? Are you okay?_ ’ Eliza had asked hurriedly upon seeing the bandages. For the first time ever, Peggy did not feel safe in her sister’s presence. She wanted to get away from Eliza—it was a new feeling, and she didn’t like it. No, she _hated it._ There was nothing she could say to her dear sister in that moment, so without giving it another thought, Peggy wrenched her arm away, fled up the rest of the stairs and retreated to her room, where she locked the door and flopped onto her bed and tried not to panic. She heard Eliza’s footsteps rapidly following her, and was not surprised when a few seconds later, came her patient knocking at her door, but she still jumped anyway.

‘ _Peggy? Peggy! Please, Pegs, open up! Please, you need to let me in! Peggy! I’m sorry for making you uncomfortable, but I really have to talk to you!_ Peggy _!’_

_What’s going to happen now? Dad’s going to be upset, Angelica’s going to be so mad, Eliza’s gonna hate me, everyone at school’s gonna hate me, the world’s gonna hate me..._

Eliza pleaded through the door for another minute or so, before stating ‘ _Alright, Pegs, I’m sorry it’s come to this,_ ’ and took a few moments to pick the lock using the bobby pin in her hair. The door flung open, and she rushed into her younger sister’s room, where Peggy was curled up underneath her blanket, sobbing quietly.

It was all kind of a blur from there—Eliza whispered to her in her calm, soothing voice, as she held her in her warm arms, easily getting her to calm down. Angelica wondered what the reason of the doors slamming was, and followed the noise upstairs, where she was met with her little sisters hugging and crying; in zero seconds flat, she was an addition to the cuddle pile, quietly asking Eliza what was going on. Eventually, their father became curious as to why Angelica had ditched the conversation, and found the same display. In the end, Peggy talked about her perspective of life, and slowly watched as her family’s faces grew too guilty and eyes too watery to bear, and she stared down at her lap. The rest of the night was spent by her sisters and father invading Peggy’s bedroom, whispering all the things they loved about her until they all drifted to sleep.

Her father asked Peggy the next day if she thought she needed medication or therapy—not that he would resort to which if she wasn’t comfortable, but said if it would honestly help her, even just a little bit, he’d be more than willing to do whatever he needed. She declined the therapy and medication.

Angelica and Eliza immediately took role as the protective older sisters, the role Peggy had always wished they’d assume. She ate with their friends at lunch, and inevitably became happier as a result of the attention she was now receiving daily. And at first, she was self-conscious about meeting new people, but learned soon that she didn’t care what they thought. She was _Peggy_ . Not _And Peggy_. And she could be whoever she wanted.

Peggy wanted to be happy. So she was happy.

And even though her depression was years behind her and she was fully recovered, it had left behind physical scars, and an incredible skill—Peggy was the best at being able to tell when people were faking happiness.

She could tell the difference between genuinely cheerful eyes, and dull ones. She could see who was the kind of person that looked in the mirror and immediately turned away in disgust. She could notice the smallest flinches whenever someone was presented with physical contact. She noticed the signs of self hatred.

She saw these signs in John Laurens. She saw these signs in Maria Lewis. She saw these signs in Alex Hamilton.

Peggy could talk to Maria, because she was willing. About a year after they had been introduced, she noticed the way she fidgeted with her short hair like she was expecting something else, and sweater sleeves, as if she were worried what someone would see underneath them. The signs were too obvious—Maria flinched at loud noises and when someone surprised her with a friendly pat on the back or a hug. On several occasions, Peggy had offered Maria a high-five, and the latter had instantly recoiled away in fear, as if she were about to hit her. She never left Eliza’s side, as if she were a lost puppy and believed that this new girl would protect her from the bigger dogs and the scary world.  For a long time, she was very quiet, only ever speaking when she was spoken to.

Peggy confronted her privately about this, because she was worried. The signs of abuse were so prominent, but she wanted to be absolutely sure she was doing the right thing by talking to her about it before actually transacting her plan.

She didn’t know what she’d been expecting, but Maria bursting into tears and flinging herself into Peggy’s arms, desperate for comfort was not it. But she hadn’t been surprised at all, to say the least.

Maria opened up about her abusive ex-husband, her no-good parents and rough upbringing. And Peggy had patiently listened to every word, offering advice and reassurance that James Reynolds would never find her again, she was loved and wanted here, and that everything would be okay. Maria was willing to talk to Peggy, because they trusted each other, making it much easier to help her.

John Laurens was a different story. No matter how hard Peggy tried, the evasive boy would refuse any help, refute any claims of being mentally unhealthy, and repeat. But no matter how he could fool everybody else, he couldn’t fool Peggy. His eyes were sad and tired, he had absolutely no sense of self-preservation—examples include never looking across the street for cars, willingly getting into needless fights, and Peggy had seen him partaking in underage drinking and drug abuse—he never called his family, he never spoke about them, he never even visited them anymore. Peggy knew all about the twisted relationship he had with his father, and suspected there had been a small amount of times where the abuse he bestowed over John escalated to physical. On an occasion or two when he had stayed over with them for the night, he’d wake up from horrible nightmares, flailing and screaming. John had stayed out for nearly a week straight, once, and Henry Laurens hadn’t even noticed. There was no doubt his childhood hadn’t been a favourable one.

Sometimes, Peggy would lose hope, thinking he’d never talk to her. But she convinced herself, _he just needs time. He’ll talk to me one day._ Still, it was frustrating that said day hadn’t yet come. There was only certainty in her young mind that John had some form of depression, but had yet to admit it to himself.

And now, there was Alexander Hamilton.

When they met, he threw on this confident, polite, friendly persona, and at first, she had bought it. When they hung out more, Peggy could _see_ . Alex came from _somewhere_ where being weak led to being taken advantage of. He worked ceaselessly to prove he was great, which led Peggy to believe it had been what he’d done wherever he’d came from, too. But Alexander had also avoided answering anyone whenever they’d ask where he came from.

She also found it strange, when Hercules pulled everyone over to him to show them a funny YouTube video of a dog dancing in the rain, Alex recoiled away with a paled expression, and looked like he was about to vomit. He left not long after the incident, with the excuse he had suddenly stopped feeling well. But Peggy knew there was more to it than that. His face had showed _mortification_ , not sickness. Something had shaken Alexander to the core, something so drastic he’d forced himself to leave. John reported to her, when looking desperately for advice a few hours later after he’d gone back to his dorm, that he found Alex with his head in his hands on his bed, not responding and unmoving, and had remained like that for a few minutes before even acknowledging John’s presence.

_He has a need to prove himself_

_Taken advantage of in some way?_

_Is scared of rain? Or dancing dogs?_ were Peggy’s internal notes. She was determined to find the real Alex Hamilton, and she was determined to help him overcome whatever he had gone through.

 

***

 

_Knock knock knock_.

Eliza groggily lifted her head from the arm of the couch where she had passed out the night before. At first, she didn’t know if she had really heard something, or her barely-conscious mind was playing tricks on her; so she lay there for a moment, basking in her best friend and sisters’ presences, cuddled up beside her, snoring from inside a pillow fortress and sleeping soundly on the pull-out couch.

_Knock knock knock knock_.

Alright, it was definitely real, then. She sighed quietly to herself, and was halfheartedly annoyed at whomever insisted on waking her up at—what time even was it? She was luckily able to slip out of Maria’s grasp without waking her or Angelica and Peggy, and when she had, delicately picked up her phone and switched it on.

_7:26_.

Whoever was outside was going to _die_.

Or alternatively, they were going to be the target of Eliza’s _trying-to-be- angry-but-really-isn’t-threatening-in-the-slightest-and-just-makes-her-end-up-looking- cute-because-Eliza-isn’t-capable-of-anger_ stare.

She didn’t recall actually walking over to the door (it was more like stumbling because she was so tired) or opening it, but she nearly screamed when her bleary eyes focused on the person standing in the doorway.

Alexander fucking Hamilton, with his hair all done up and slicked back, wearing a nice red button up shirt and holding a colourful bouquet of flowers, wearing the most flustered expression she had ever seen him with. (John was there with him too, but Eliza barely acknowledged him.)

And Eliza had just woken up; her hair was disastrous, she was in her childish blue pyjamas, and like every other human being on the planet, her brain didn’t exactly function at this hour of the day. She wanted to die of embarrassment, and felt herself  go redder than Alexander’s shirt on a whim.

“A-Alexander!” she croaked. “W-what are you doing here! At my house! At seven-thirty AM!” _Smooth, ‘liza, real smooth._

“Hi, middle Schuyler,” John smiled warmly.

“H-hey, Eliza,” Alexander greeted lamely. John nudged him. “Uh, is Angelica here?”

For a split second, Eliza’s heart dropped into her stomach and she wanted to cry, because of course Alexander Hamilton would fall for her gorgeous, incredible and intelligent sister. Of course all this way for her, of course he went out of his way to dress up and bring her flowers and make an impression.

But then she remembered yesterday.

“O-oh, i-is all this to make up for that argument you two got in?” she queried hopefully. To her relief, Alex nodded.

“Yeah. Is she here right now?” he asked.

“Oh. Y-yeah, she’s _here_ , if she’s _awake_ is a different matter. Seriously, Alex, _seven thirty_? Couldn’t it have waited a few hours?” she joked.

Alexander sheepishly scratched the back of his neck. “I dunno, I guess I just wanted it to be the first thing I do today so I can get it out of the way and stop worrying about it. Do you want me to come back later?” John kicked the back of Alex’s leg. “Ow—! ...I _mean_ , Eliza, can you please go get Angelica?”

Eliza giggled at Alexander being peer-pressured into getting the apology over with right away. “Sure. Hold on a second.”

She gently crossed the room to the sofa where her older sister was sleeping. “Angie,” Eliza whispered, shaking her gently. Angelica groaned.

“Wha? What time is it?” she slurred, her voice heavy with sleep.

“Seven thirty in the morning. John and—”

“Why the _shit_ would you wake me up so early on a Sunday? I don’t have work today,” she grumbled.

“No, I know, but there’s someone at the door for you.” This intrigued Angelica.

“Who?”

Fearing that she would refuse to talk to him, Eliza did not tell her that it was in fact Alexander at the door. “Go see for yourself.”

Angelica yawned (or was it a growl? Eliza couldn’t even tell) and tiredly stood up. She froze when she saw who was there for her. Alexander’s face paled significantly, and he looked up to John pleadingly, silently begging for him to let him leave. John ignored him.

“Hey, Angie,” John greeted kindly.

“Angelica!” Alexander said awkwardly and held out the colourful flowers. “Uh, these. These are for you. Can I talk to you, please?”

Angelica had yet to move from her spot, seemingly unable to. When she finally came to, she nodded slowly, accepted the gift tentatively and followed Alexander into the hallway, leaving John alone in the dorm with the other three girls.

“Did you convince him to do this so early?” Eliza asked.

John shrugged. “He kept making excuses, saying ‘I’ll do it at noon. No, actually three would be better. Wait, maybe I should do it before our class together?’ and stuff, so I kicked him out early because I don’t want to be on the receiving end of his bullshit all day. Anyway, how is my favourite ‘liza doing?” he smiled, pulling her in for a hug which she happily accepted.

“I’m the only ‘liza you know,” she giggled.

“Henceforth making you my favourite,” he countered with a grin. Then he noticed the state of disarray the dorm was in. “Is that Maria? Did y’all have a sleepover or something? Yo, is that _pizza_ ?! And you didn’t save _me_ any?!”

 

***

 

Angelica’s heart was racing—Alex was all dressed up and he had brought her flowers. She couldn’t help but imagine in different circumstances, he was here to pick her up for a date.

What should she say to him? What _could_ she say? There weren’t enough words, there weren’t any right words to describe what she wanted to vocalize. She silently followed him outside, holding the flowers close to her chest in one hand, and waited for whatever was about to happen next.

As soon as Angelica shut the door, Alexander seized her free hand, which she had _not_ been expecting. She involuntarily flinched, but he seemed to notice that it was due to shock rather than discomfort, and thankfully didn’t let go. Then he started rambling.

“Angelica, I’m so so sorry for yesterday. I felt so bad about what happened and what I said and did immediately afterwards, and I know I can be a little ignorant to social cues, and that’s mostly just ‘cuz I’ve never had any real friends. And now I have you, your sisters, John, Laf and Herc and Maria, and I don’t want to lose any of you for any reason. So when I thought I had fucked up our whole friendship because I decided to go and stupidly hit on the barista, I had never felt so stupid, and I’m nowhere close to what you’d consider stupid. Basically, I’m really sorry about yesterday, and—”

Every apologetic word that tumbled out of his mouth attached Angelica closer and closer to this boy. She wanted to kiss him.

“Alexander!” she cut him off, and he instantly shut up. His expression spoke one that was frightened of whatever would follow his name. _Dreading_ it, in fact.

She wanted to kiss him so badly. Kiss away the anxious face he was wearing, instead of the confident and intellectual one he was supposed to have in its place. Not that she didn’t want to kiss that one, too.

“It’s okay,” Angelica smiled. “If anything, I should be apologizing to you. I had no right to snap at you like that, but I did anyway. You’re well within your rights to flirt with whomever you like. The truth is...”

_Kiss him. Do it. Tell him you like him. Run away with him._

“...Eliza fancies you.”

Alexander’s expression changed from fear to surprise.

“I got snippy because I thought you knew how she felt, and I guess it was just the older-sister instincts to bitch at you because of it, y’know? I’m sorry.”  

Alexander squeezed her hand kindly. “Don’t apologize. The truth is, I was flirting with the barista _because_ I suspected Eliza liked me. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset her, and I didn’t mean to upset you.”

_He knows. He knows Eliza likes him, and they’re going to get together and get married and you’ll only see them on holidays and you’ll be their children’s aunt_ —

“Don’t do it again, okay? She was pretty upset. And if you hurt her, you know that you automatically deal with me, right?” she stated instead, trying to mask her pain with strictness. She succeeded.

“Oh, yeah, don’t worry. You’re enough to convince me never to hurt her,” he laughed jokingly. Then he held out his arms questioningly. Angelica immediately accepted the hug, and melted into it. She held the flowers out to the side so they wouldn’t get crushed in between their bodies.

“Friends?” he asked with a hopeful smile playing on his lips.

Angelica smiled sadly. “ _Friends_. Be good to my Eliza.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rip Angelica  
> rip Peggy  
> rip Maria  
> rip John  
> rip Alex  
> Hey howdy hey  
> I'm sorry for not updating for a few days, school is a bitch rip  
> Shorter chapter, I'm sorry about that, but I thought it turned out okay! I also had writer's block, so the next one will be longer :)))  
> Thank you so much for the comments and kudos, y'all are the best 


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alexander comes to terms with his sexuality (John kind of does, too), John goes missing and is later found drinking enough alcohol to poison a semi-gigantic dog, Maria gives some stellar advice, everybody is cute.

Alexander was beginning to notice strange things.

He was already exceptionally perceptive, and had been told so any times. He could pick up the slightest changes in an environment, and use them to his advantage. He  _had_ to be vigilant on Nevis, otherwise he wouldn’t have survived as long as he did. He wouldn’t have been able to memorize shopkeeper’s schedules in favour of deciding what times would be best for him to make an attempt to steal food. He wouldn’t have been able to tell who was armed and who wasn’t, and who he could cross and who he couldn’t. He wouldn’t have been able to notice a man tailing him on several occasions, after his article about the hurricane was published, before he was offered a scholarship. He wouldn’t have been able to get the jump on said man before he struck first.

But this was different. He wasn't noticing anything dangerous... he wasn’t abruptly at risk, or had any reason to be more mindful, so it wasn’t  _that_ kind of oddness he was suddenly noticing. It was... well, he didn’t know what to make of it.

He suddenly began to see similar traits in men that he admired in women. Well, not  _suddenly_. He was also noticing that he always kind of had?

It had occurred when he was hanging out with John a few days ago. They had just gotten dismissed from class, and they were stopping for coffee on their way back to the dorm, when John insisted on practicing their secret handshake so they could stop fucking it up. Except it wasn’t like how when they  _usually_ did it.

Alex found himself unable to stop admiring John. His eyes, his smile, his body...

Men had just seemed so...  _appealing_ , lately. And it infuriated Alexander to no end, because he couldn’t figure out  _why_ . It wasn’t like he was  _gay_ , because he definitely liked girls. Girls were soft and beautiful. But men were strong, masculine and solid... what was he  _thinking_ ? He couldn’t deny that he wanted to be held by a man, perhaps kiss one, just to see what it felt like, perhaps go further, if they were willing. All for experimentation, of course, because it wasn’t like he actually  _wanted_ to have gay sex, he was just curious. That was all it was.

But damn, Alexander couldn’t help that John was attractive. He was muscular, he was cute, and okay, he was fucking hung. With the skinny jeans he wore so often, it really left little to the imagination,  _not Alex’s fault_. It wasn’t just his roommate, either, it was even random people. Random people with defined jawlines, pretty eyes and beautiful bodies.

“Bloody hell, why is everyone so attractive?!” Alexander murmured to himself during his liberal studies class as he stared intensely at the back of some kid’s head who had really really pretty hair, thankfully not attracting any attention, as he usually ended up doing.

Later on, he google searched ' _why is everyone so hot_ ', only to come up short with various answers of how to be attractive. He spent an hour online in his room before becoming increasingly frustrated with the lack of useful information the internet was providing him with, so he decided to talk to Lafayette, an open and proud pansexual.

He had thankfully gotten a phone by that point, anyway, so he could talk to him without having to assume he was in his dorm. He'd had the cheap Samsung for nearly a week now, and although John tried to coax him into waiting a little longer and saving up for something better, Alexander insisted that he couldn't care less if he tried. He only had his friends' contacts and James Madisons', because they were partners for a creative writing project.

Speaking of John, Alexander knew he didn't have classes Wednesday evenings, he got out at 3:00. So why wasn't he back yet? It was now nearly six, it had been a few hours, he should be back by now—but Alexander was still alone in the dorm room. Alex was worried of becoming the annoying and clingy friend people low-key want to get rid of, so decided to stop texting him until he texted back. They  _already_ lived together, what more could he ask for? He had sent John a  _few_ messages earlier, but got no reply. Alexander didn't mind at all that John wanted to hang out with other people, he had other friends! Still, he just wished John would tell him he'd be back soon...

_You've only just recently gotten a phone_ , the logical part of his mind assured him.  _He's probably forgotten to text you, because he's not used to you having access to his contacts at all! He'll be back soon_ .  _He's probably out working on homework with Hercules, or at Wendy's and blowing bubbles into chocolate milk with Peggy._

Still unable to shake the anxiety, Alex sent another text, just to be sure.

**A.Ham** **_to_ ** **A_Turtle_:)**

_hey John, want to work with me on our pre-law homework? some of the answers are a little tricky_

(They weren't.)

_Johnnnn_

_where are youuu_

_i'm a sad and lonely boy :'(_

_shit do you know if Eliza got the notes for liberal studies? Angelica told me she missed class today because she wasn't feeling well_

_wait nevermind i can just give her mine_

He didn't care much for proper punctuation when he was texting, because he knew it didn't really matter. Besides, when he began texting his friends for the first time, he made  _sure_ they knew that he was actually a very skilled writer and only wrote so carelessly while texting by reminding them  _every single time_ that he was.

_yo your biology class ended an hour ago, where you at?_

_John Laurens_

_John_

_Joannatrice_

_pay attention to me_

_John just text me back when you get the chance ok?_

_dude i'm getting a little worried, you've been gone for two hours now_

_come back soon, ok?_ he sent.

"He'll be back soon," Alex asserted. Just for good measure, he added,

_by the way if you don't text me back by 8 i'm calling the cops_

So as to distract himself he pulled up Lafayette's contact and decided to talk to him about what he had intended to, earlier. Alex fired off a text, to which he thankfully replied to almost immediately.

**A.Ham**

_hey Laf_

_are you present_

**America's_Favourite_Fighting_Frenchman**

_for you, darling, i could be ;)_

_comment allez-vous?_

**A.Ham**

_so much better now that you're here, dearest ＜3_

**America's_Favourite_Fighting_Frenchman**

_＜3＜3＜3_

Alexander and Lafayette had unspokenly established a dynamic that resulted in both of them trying to out-flirt the other (be their target each other, or a different unsuspecting soul who just so unfortunately happened to be within range). It was equally as annoying as it was entertaining to everybody else around them. But now was not about a silly competition (that Alex would  _absolutely_  win, by the way)—he needed answers.

**A.Ham**

_anyway Laf, i need to ask you something_

**America's_Favourite_Fighting_Frenchman**

_naturally—i do have approximate knowledge of many things_

_what is it_

He paused before typing up a response. He knew Lafayette would probably know how to identify the thoughts he was feeling, and would surely be super chill about it all. So what was he hesitating for? He shook his head and sent the message.

**A.Ham**

_i'm not sure if it's a personal question or anything, but if it is, you don't have to answer it_

_i apologize in advance if it is_

**America's_Favou** **rite_Fighting_Frenchman**

_no i did not fuck that one cactus in the dining hall_

**A.Ham**

_wait what_

**America's_Favourite_Fighting_Frenchman**

_ok maybe i did_

_it's not my fault_

_her spikes were just so alluring_

**A.Ham**

_Laf what the fuck_

**America's_Favourite_Fighting_Frenchman**

_don't even get me started on her sexy green body_

**A.Ham**

_LAF STOP PLEASE_

**America's_Favourite_Fighting_Frenchman**

_ok ok i'm sorry_

_spit out the question already_

**A.Ham**

_how did you realize you were queer?_

There was a short delay before his reply finally appeared on Alexander's screen.

**America's_Favourite_Fighting_Frenchman**

_HEY SORRY I'M BACK_

_HERC OWES ME 10 BUCKS_

_I KNEW IT HAHAHHAHA_

**A.Ham**

_excuse me?_

**America's_Favourite_Fighting_Frenchman**

_YOU'RE QUEER RIGHT? AND YOU'RE TRYING TO COME OUT TO ME??_

_IT'S OKAY DARLING SAY NO MORE, IT'S EVIDENT_

_I GET 5 DOLLARS MORE IF YOU'RE GAY_

_I GET 5  M O R E  DOLLARS IF YOU'RE SECRETLY FUCKING JOHN_

**A.Ham**

_you made a bet with Herc as to whether or not i was gay???_

_and in love with John??????_

**America's_Favourite_Fighting_Frenchman**

_obviously???_

_it's plain to see, mon cher ;D_

_now please say it directly so i can show the evidence to Hercules and receive my money ＜3_

**A.Ham**

_no, you've got it all wrong!_

_i don't KNOW what i even identify as anymore??_

_i thought you could help me shine some sort of light on it_

**America's_Favourite_Fighting_Frenchman**

_ohhhhh_

_ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh_

_ohhhhhhHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH_

_ok ok ok_

_listen mon ami, helping others unlock their true raging homosexuality is my key speciality_

**A.Ham**

_oddly specific_

**America's_Favourite_Fighting_Frenchman**

_do you want my help or not_

**A.Ham**

_yes please_

**America'_Favourite_Fighting_Frenchman**

_good_

_l_ _et's just break this down slowly, yes?_

_i'm gonna ask you some questions, and i want you to think about them very carefully before answering honestly_

**A.Ham**

_this sounds like therapy_

**America's_Favourite_Fighting_Frenchman**

_shut up_

_now tell me, Alexander, do you think you're straight?_

Alexander did as he was told, and thought long and hard about his reply. Did he think he was straight? He considered attraction he'd felt towards people, and how some of which had been guys. But then again, he wasn't sure if that could be classified as just aesthetic attraction, or romantic, or sexual, or whatever. He  _was_ still technically a teenager, he still had a high sex drive. It could just be that.

**A.Ham**

_i think so?_

_or i thought so?_

_dude, i don't know_

_i think guys are hot, absolutely, but girls are too??_

_and it's not even the same kind of "hot" either because the universe likes to make things more difficult than necessary_

_girls are more of a soft, warm i-must-protect-them-at-all-costs kind of beautiful_

_guys are harder, more dominant and you really want to get a piggy back ride from them kind of beautiful_

_y'know?_

**America's_Favourite_Fighting_Frenchman**

_it's so funny to me how verbose you are_

_also yes i absolutely understand_

_well actually_

_for me, i'm just attracted to people if they're not douchebags and are pretty_

_pansexuality isn't really a gender specific kind of thing_

_so, no, i don't particularly understand what you're talking about through EXPERIENCE, but i know where you're coming from_

_we're getting somewhere_

_so next question, describe what being in love feels like to you; if you can't, just try doing the same thing but with a crush instead_

Alexander had never been in love. He'd had crushes on people, but those endeavours never went very far. He'd dated a small handful of girls on Nevis, all of which ended up breaking up with him for miscellaneous amounts of reasons (e.g. the typical 'it's not you, it's me', 'I'd rather us just remain friends', 'I need to focus on other things right now', he'd heard them all.), or he'd broken up with because he got bored or realized she was cheating or something. His longest relationship had probably lasted about two or three months? But he'd felt something at the beginning for anything to actually occur between them—he would feel a pull towards them, and a desire to get to know them better. He'd felt his heart flutter, and blush would redden his cheeks, and his mind that formulated articulate words normally with such ease would falter, ever so slightly. But thinking about it now, too, he  _had_ felt that with boys. He'd brushed it off as him just being anxious around his friends.

Oh, how wrong he had been.

Alexander described what he felt to Lafayette (... _i mean don't get me wrong i would absolutely suck Ryan Reynolds' dick if given the opportunity but that doesn't necessarily make me queer because EVERYONE's wanted to do that at some point..._ ), who responded back about almost an entire minute after reading Alex's message.

**America's_Favourite_Fighting_Frenchman**

_ok dude_

_so i've done an internal analysis after having stared at the screen for a bit because i was unable to register your complete and utter ignorancw_

_*ignorance_

_you're totally fucking bi how the hell didn't you realize this before_

Bi? As in bisexual? As in being attracted to both  _girls and guys_?

Alexander had never had the opportunity to learn much about the amazing abundance of sexuality and gender identities before coming to New York, where he was now drinking up every word of this fascinating new knowledge. All he had known back on Nevis was heterosexuality. Not even the loving kind of heterosexuality, either, just the  _have sex, have kids, die_  kind as opposed to the loving and cherished heterosexual relationships that he knew existed. He'd heard the term 'gay' once or twice there, but that was just when some middle-aged white tourist mentioned something about them going to hell.

Before he died, he asked his brother what it meant. James had told him monotonously, ' _it's when two people of the same gender love each other the same way you or I love women_ ,' and it had  _blown his mind_ . Two women could love each other? Two men could love each other? He thought that was amazing! However, the majority of the island disagreed. James had told him not to engage in fights about gay rights, because people would think  _he_  was gay, and nobody took well to ' _those kinds of people'_. Then again, James had never really cared for the safety of queer folk, himself—he got that from their father. Their mother was more liberal, like Alex.

_"Oh Petit Lion," Rachel would coo, "imagina un mundo donde está bien amar a alguien que te guste. No importa si son niñas o niños, porque simplemente se acepta que el amor es amor, y eso es todo. Ese es el mundo que espero." (_ **_imagine a world where it's okay to love anybody you like. It doesn't matter if they're a girl or a boy, because it's just accepted that love is love, and that's that. That's the world I wish for._ ** _)_

_"Yo también quiero eso, Mamá," (_ ** _I want that too, Mama_** _) he agreed, without fully knowing what it meant. He did love girls and boys—he loved his Mama, his Dad and his big brother James._  He'd been five at the time. Had he understood the extent of what his mother was talking about, he would have given her such a conversation she would be reeling. He hoped she would be proud of him now.

Bisexuality was still a relatively new term to Alexander, and yet it seemed so familiar. It was like a lost piece of a puzzle that you had never even noticed was missing. The label fit seamlessly, and yes, after talking with Lafayette and thinking it over, it should have been obvious that he's had crushes on boys before. It was confusing, but it was  _liberating_.

"Oh my god, I am totally  _bi_ ," he whispered to the emptiness of the room. "I'm bi...! Mama, I'm bisexual! Isn't that cool?" He texted Lafayette a quick goodbye and didn't wait for a response before switching tabs from the texting app to the music app. He selected one of his most cheerful songs and tossed the phone back onto his sleeping bag, and smiled widely to himself.

"I'm bi! I'm bisexual!" he grinned to himself. Alexander planned on coming out to all his friends immediately—why would he bother waiting? He'd been 'officially' bisexual for little under ten minutes, but it was like the entire world suddenly made sense. He was overjoyed! He would wear this new aspect of himself proudly on his sleeve, just as he did with the rest of his opinions. No point messing around with all the  _in the closet_ business, he was bisexual, and happy about it, and wanted his friends to be happy for him, too. Perhaps it was jumping the gun, but Alexander was already online and ordering bisexuality pride flags to hang in his room, a pin for his backpack and a sticker for his laptop. They delighted him, so screw what the nasty homophobes thought.

"I'm bisexual! I like girls and boys!" he continued to sing joyfully. "Fuck heteronormativity! Fuck society! I'm bi and nobody's powerful enough to stop me!" Then he was dancing, without even realizing it. He was just sliding his way around the room and bouncing on the balls of his feet gracelessly; he was not a blessed soul when it came to rhythm. Well, he could rap quite well, he was just an awful dancer. Which was okay, because he wasn't exactly building a career path in the dancing field. But despite his utter inelegance, he just moved his arms and legs whatever which way he pleased, and had fun doing it.

And then he tripped over one of John's sweaters.

Normally, he didn’t mind when John left his shit lying around, because he did the same thing. But when it became hazardous, he decided they needed to draw a line. Not to mention, it was John’s hoodie that Alexander was fondest of—the black one with a little green turtle in the top right-hand corner, eating a lush strawberry. He felt betrayed.

He stuck out his hands to break his fall, and failed miserably. He landed on his forehead, where he would undoubtedly bruise. But it was fine—he was in too much of a good mood to be put off entirely by a slight throbbing in his head. He’d probably have a headache later.

_John!_

He checked his phone to see if he had any missed messages from him—none.

“Goddammit, Laurens,” he mumbled. He remembered considering that he might be hanging out with Hercules, and decided to call him. He was getting much more use from his new phone than he expected.

The ringer dialed four times before Hercules’ booming voice greeted him from the other end of the line. “Hey, man! What’s up?”

“Hey, Herc! I’m just wondering, do you by any chance know where John is? He doesn’t have class on Wednesday evenings, and he hasn’t come back yet, nor has he responded to any of my messages.”

“Yo, really?” he queried. “Laurens isn’t the kind of guy to forget to charge his phone, and he’s literally always got it on him. Like he’ll take it into the bathroom with him and everything. He’s so paranoid—”

“Herc, I don’t want to know about John’s bathroom habits, or why you know about them either. Do you have any idea where he’d be? Do you think he’s in trouble or something?” he asked, his anxiety getting the better of him.

“What? No way. John can really punch, dude. If the need arose, he could probably kill a guy with his bare hands. So stay on his good side,” he joked good-heartedly. “But yeah, like I was saying, he’s always got his phone. He doesn’t reply whenever he’s shitfaced or stoned, though...”

“John does weed?” Alexander inquired.

“He used to do it more, but I think he still does from time to time... if he  _is_ stoned, I’m sure he’ll make his way home today  _eventually_. But if he’s drunk, he’ll probably come home tomorrow morning. Ooh, it’s gonna be a bitch hangover if he is drinking, because he’s got early morning classes on Thursdays, doesn’t he? Damn. Well, tell him I said it was nice knowing him.”

“Do you know where he might  _be_?”

“ _My_ first guess would be that he’s in the bar—you know the one down the street? That’s where we frequent. We’ll need to bring you out sometime.”

“That sounds great, Herc,” Alexander grinned. “I’ve gotten pretty much all my homework done anyway, so if you guys are free this weekend, I am, too.”

“Done!”

Alexander and Hercules exchanged goodbyes and hung up.

 

John wasn’t in the bar.

Alex wandered around perusing the faces of the bar patrons, but not one familiar face set in. Well, there was Burr, who was in his pre-law class, but he was sitting with a woman by themselves, and by the way he was smiling genuinely (which Alex had never seen him do), he assumed they wanted to be left alone. However, Alexander didn’t care. He needed to find his friend.

“Hey, Burr,” he said as he approached them with a polite grin playing on his lips. “Hey...?”

“Theodosia,” the woman replied kindly.

“Alex Hamilton,” he introduced himself. He was still getting used to the different surname, but he had to admit, it was growing on him. “Are you a friend of Burr’s?”

“I’m Aaron’s—”

“Do you  _need_ something, Hamilton?” Burr asked coolly. He was clearly annoyed that Alexander was interrupting.

“Yeah, have you seen John?”

“John Laurens?” he inquired.

“What other John is there?”

“Alexander, literally half the school population is named John—”

“Okay, okay, whatever. Have you seen him?”

“I saw him leaving the biology building with Maria Lewis a few hours ago. Though I can’t admit that I’m particularly concerned as to where he is,” he added.

“Yeah yeah, I know you, John, Laf and Herc all have this cryptic past that nobody will tell me because of personal reasons or whatever and you all hate each other. That’s wonderful. Did you see where he was going?”

“Why? Has he not come back to the dorm yet?”

“No... biology is his last class, and I haven’t seen him since this morning.”

“Hm. Well, like I told you, he was heading off somewhere with Maria Lewis. You know her, don’t you? She hangs out with Elizabeth Schuyler and her sister.”

“ _Sisters_ ,” Alex corrected. “Also yeah, I know Maria. Thanks, Burr. Nice meeting you, Theodosia. See you later.”

“Same to you, Alex,” she said. 

On that note, he made his way out and back outside to his car. His first plan was to check Maria’s dorm to see if he was in there with her. Naturally, he couldn’t help but wonder what they were doing. He felt his stomach turn at his first thought, but shook it away right after. He didn’t want to make any assumptions, as they were only friends. Right? Still, if they were doing anything explicit, Alexander did  _not_ want to know the details.

He drove the five minutes it took to get to campus and played his music on shuffle, but only got through a song and a half before he was pulling into the parking lot. Then he realized he had no idea where Maria’s dorm was.

**A.Ham** **_to_ ** **A_Turtle_:)**

_i just had to talk to Herc, try and find you at the bar only to fail sadly, talk to Burr and get information out of him and now i’m back on campus trying to track you down here_

_it would be much easier though if you’d TEXT ME BACK_

 

_***_

 

John laughed loudly. “ _¡Nooo, T-Jeffs y Laf se ven exactamente iguales! ¿No lo ves_ ?” They had a habit of switching languages when they were drunk, so their conversations consisted of English, Spanish and French, though Maria didn’t speak French. “ _Eres hermosa y te amo, Maria, pero eres más ciega que Alexander_. That guy needs to get some glasses or something, goddamn.”

“Ohhh, Alexander!” she sighed happily. “He’s lovely, don’t you think, John?  _Sin embargo, desearía que Eliza le tuviera menos cariño_...”

Maria’s dorm was filled with red decor—her bedspread, curtains, ottoman, carpet, etc. She didn’t have a roommate, so she was free to decorate it however she liked. Usually, it was the definition of cleanliness, because Maria couldn’t stand when things were a mess. But as of then, drained cans and bottles littered the room, empty pizza boxes were dumped on the couch, crumbs caked the floor, and the couch cushions were scattered around from when they had a pillow fight. Currently, they were sitting at the small coffee table with the last few bottles of alcohol and surrounded by the chaos.

John woke up that morning and immediately knew it was going to be one of those days where he was plagued by depressing thoughts. So his solution was to accomplish as much as he could in class, and then get totally wasted afterwards. On the bright side, he had company; Maria was having one of those days, too, so he invited her to join him. She told him that she had alcohol in her dorm and John was sure he could have kissed her right then and there. So here they were in Maria's dorm after having consumed several beers, an abundance of shots and they were working on some vodka. 

John patted her arm sympathetically. “ _Elle viendra à temps. Ne t'inquiète pas. Je sais que tu seras ensemble un jour._ ”

“Don’ speak French,” she slurred sadly. “Where’d you learn it again?”

“Mama taught me,” he answered. But before he could start mourning over his late mother, there was suddenly a ping from his phone, signalling him that it was finally charged enough for him to use. He went to pick it up, missing and nearly dropping it a few times before eventually getting it.

He was surprised to see fifteen messages and eight missed calls from Alexander. As he was caught off-guard and drunk, John flushed up and grinned dopily. 

“Are you texting Alex?” Maria asked.

"How did you know?"

"You always get that dumb look when you're talking to him."

"I  _do_?"

"Oh totally. You seriously look at him like he hung the fucking stars. Are you  _really_ gay? Because the Schuylers and I thought you were."

"Honey, you have  _no_ idea!" he slurred, barking out a laugh. "I've been gay  _my whole life_. But like, I can't come out to anybody because my dad is  _evil._ Pure fucking evil. And everybody would hate me. Don' tell anyone, promise?"

"Nobody would hate you!" she countered. "We still love you, you irrational fuck! Now text Alex back and tell me what he says."

**A_Turtle_:)** **_to_ ** **A.Ham**

_heyyyyyyyyyyy_

_soryry for not txeting earlurer, my phone dief :’(_

Alexander responded almost immediately.

**A.Ham**

_OH MY GOD FINALLY_

_THANK YOU FOR TEXTING ME SIX HOURS LATER_

_JESUS FUCK JOHN I WAS STARTING TO THINK YOU WERE DEAD_

_where are you?_

**A_Turtle_:)**

_twquila_

**A.Ham**

_excuse me?_

**A_Turtle_:)**

_TEQUIAL ALEX BABYB_

_im chilling wighjk Maira nr wnat to join?_

**A.Ham**

_are you two in her dorm?_

**A_Turtle_:)**

_yeahhhhh but iss ok shes not gionaa stela me from yu baby ＜3＜3_

_im liek_

_realllllllllllllllly gay agsdrn6yw_

**A.Ham**

_are you drunk??_

**A_Turtle_:)**

_boyy you havew NO ideadds hahahah_

_maaria is too_

**A.Ham**

_jesus christ_

_which dorm is Maria’s? i’ll come get you_

**A_Turtle_:)**

_nooooooooooooooooo :’(((_

_the patyryts not overrrwbe_

**A.Ham**

_John Laurens tell me where her dorm is right now or i’m going to set your sketchbooks on fucking fire_

**A_Turtle_:)**

_OK DAMN_

_o shittttttt i forget_

_idjdf man elisa iwll know lol_

_fuck brb maria’s downING ANOTEHWER SHOT WGAT A QUEEN_

**A.Ham**

_NO_

_JOHN DON’T LET HER DRINK ANYMORE_

_JOHN I SWEAR TO GOD DO N O T_

**A_Turtle_:)**

_OH MYG OD_

 

"Maria, Alexander says not to drink anymore!" he cried, snatching the half-empty bottle from her hands as she tried to pour more shots, spilling the remainder of the liquid on the coffee table in the process. His phone fell to the floor and he inspected it for damage that didn't exist.

"Nooo! That was the last of the vodka!  _Vete a la mierda_ , Laurens!"

"I'm sorry! Alex said no more!"

"Alex isn't even heeeere," Maria whined, slumping sadly onto the floor. 

"He said he's coming to get me soon. You can come too, Mar! We can have a sleepover!" he said with the excitement of a small child on Christmas day. Maria perked up at that.

"Sleepovers  _are_ fun," she admitted. "Won't Alex be annoyed by me being there?"

"Nah, he loves us!" 

"I bet he has a crush on you," she deadpanned. 

"He's straight."

"Says who?"

"He told me about previous girlfriends of his, but he never mentioned anything about guys," he mumbled. John's drunken mind had no problem admitting anything to anyone. It was common for people who were inebriated to overshare personal things, but he took it to a whole new level. Lafayette had nearly pushed him down the stairs on one occasion that they were drinking, and he started going on about sexual details nobody wanted to know.

As of then, he couldn't formulate whether or not he actually did have a crush on his roommate. He was usually good at accepting when he liked someone, even if he hated himself for it, but he was genuinely unsure. Sure, Alexander was a catch—he was cute, funny, passionate and determined. He had that vibe that just naturally wanted to attract people, and John, as a result, had been attracted. But he'd seen the way Eliza looked at him, and didn't want to be a homewrecker or anything like that. Why  _wouldn't_  he go for her, anyway? Had John been straight, he probably would have liked her, too. She was beautiful, kind, caring, and the most trusting person he'd ever met. She was  _wonderful_. 

But he just didn't know. He knew he'd figure it out later on, he decided to ponder on that later.

"Want to play the-floor-is-lava while we wait for Alex?" he asked. 

Maria stared at him for a moment, and he took the time to appreciate how beautiful she truly was. Especially her eyes—Maria had deep brown eyes with flecks of green and gold, and they held so much depth behind them.  _I wish I had your eyes_.

"Oh, thanks!" she smiled before letting her head flop onto his shoulder. "...you know if you came out when we were sober, nobody would hate you, right?"

John sighed, absentmindedly running his long fingers through her wavy hair (it was very soft and he liked touching it). "I'm not saying being gay is wrong, so don't think for one second that I'm saying that about you, right?" he began. She nodded, so he continued. "It's just that—well, I mean, my dad  _disowned_ me for coming out. And I know y—"

"HENRY DISOWNED YOU?!" Maria shrieked, jumping up and nearly falling back over.

John just nodded sadly. Maria growled.

"SON OF A BITCH! HOW FUCKING DARE HE?! HE—HE JUST—JOHN FUCKING LAURENS, HE DID NOT  _DESERVE_ TO CALL YOU HIS SON! HE HAD NO RIGHT TO EVEN  _LOOK_ AT SOMEONE AS BRILLIANT AS YOU! HE'S A SADISTIC FUCKHEAD WHO'S SOMEDAY GONNA GET FUCKED OVER  _SO DAMN HARD_ BY KARMA, HE WON'T BE ABLE TO LOOK IN THE FUCKING MIRROR! I SWEAR TO SATAN HIMSELF, I'M GOING TO SHOVE BASIC HUMAN RIGHTS SO FAR UP HIS ASS HE'S GONNA TASTE LIBERALITY FOR THE REST OF HIS PATHETIC, WEASELLY, MISERABLE LIFE! JOHN, I'LL KILL HIM, I'LL—"  

She noticed the tears streaming down his face, and stopped yelling, instantaneously falling down to his side and wrapping him in a hug. He was giggling, though, at her rampage from a second ago. 

"Maybe shoving basic human rights  _that_ far up his ass would make him a better person," he offered through the tears, and Maria chuckled. 

"I'm so sorry, John," she whispered into his curly hair, as he continued to cry quietly. 

"I know you guys wouldn't hate me for being gay. It's just that my own family didn't even want me anymore after I told them. Seeing the pure abhorrence in my little brothers and sisters' eyes... it—it's heartbreaking, y'know? I bet my mother would be repulsed, too," he sniffled.

"There is  _nothing_ wrong with being gay," she countered. "You said it yourself, you still like me, and  _I'm_ gay. So why are you beating up _yourself_ for it?"

"My family hates me."

"Your family's homophobic. That's their fucking fault. If they opened their eyes, they would realize that they're idiots. The world's evolving and so are our rights, they need to get with the times. It's not the fucking 1700s anymore, god damn."

He whispered, "But if I were straight, they'd still love me."

"If you were straight, we probably wouldn't be friends," she said.

"What?"

"Think about it. You grew up in an environment where they drilled the 'perils of homosexuality' into your head since you were  _born_. Had you been straight, you would have just gone along with it and grow up hating on LGBT people yourself. You'd be homophobic, and if you had still come to New York instead of staying in South Carolina to be with Martha Manning, you would automatically hate me for loving girls. You'd hate Eliza for being bisexual, you'd hate Laf for being pansexual, you'd hate Herc for being demisexual, you'd hate Peggy for being gay, you'd hate Angelica by default, since she'll fight anyone who's a dick to her sisters, you'd hate James for being gay, you'd hate Thomas for being pansexual—"

"I hate Thomas anyway."

"—and while Alexander is still questionable, I definitely have my suspicions. But you see my point, don't you? Look, I'm not saying we can replace your family or take their role, because I know you can't just do that. You won't just forget your dad and brothers and sisters, but I think it's safe to say we're a better influence than them. We're accepting people, and we'll love you no matter what. If they can't do that, they're not good family nor are they worth your time." 

John cracked a grin. "You always know what to say. You're always right, Mar. How do you always manage to be right all the time, every time? _Even_ when you're shitfaced?" 

"Because I know everything. Even when I'm shitfaced. Still want to play the-floor-is-lava?"

"Yes. But wait, quick question, does  _everybody_ think I'm gay?"

Maria barked out a laugh. "Try  _know_. Remember the time you got so wasted you started going on about your sexual fantasies and Laf nearly pushed you down the stairs?"

He did remember that. John flushed in embarrassment.

"Yeah, well, all of them just so happened to be involving guys. You literally told us how much you wanted some hunk to suck your dick or fuck you through the mattress. My poor lesbian ears, John. I didn't need this information. It will be with me to my grave, probably after, too."

"'M sorry," he groaned, hugging Maria apologetically. "Let's play the-floor-is-lava, now."

 

John was hanging upside down from the sofa and Maria was lying on the floor after having fallen off early in the game and took the _pretend-being-burned-to-death_ role way too seriously when there was a knock at the door. Neither of them were exactly in a position to answer it, but when John whined at Maria to play rock-paper-scissors with him to decide who had to do it and she didn't answer, he assumed she'd fallen asleep. 

Griping to himself, he hoisted himself up, barely maintaining balance and stumbled over to the door. When he opened it, he was surprised to see Alexander there, before remembering that he  _said_ he would be coming. He didn't remember him mentioning bringing Eliza and Angelica too, though.

Alex glared at John before he could get a word out, and threw his arm around his neck to keep him steady. "You look like you're about to fall over at any second," he grumbled. "Where's Maria?"

"Hi, Alex! She's on the floor. Hi 'liza, hi Angie!" Eliza waved politely, Angelica sighed.

"Why were you two drinking?" she inquired, as Eliza immediately wandered over to the couches were Maria was collapsed next to the coffee table. Typical no-nonsense Angelica, always straight down to business. 

John shrugged (or tried to shrug—it was difficult with Alexander's arm around his shoulders). "Life sucks," he answered dejectedly.

"You can't just turn to alcohol to fix your problems!"

"Sorry."

Angelica softened. "I'm sorry for getting mad, John. We're just worried about you, is all. You scared Alexander half to death."

"I second that," Alex said. "At least  _warn_ a guy if you're not going to come home for like, seven hours."

"Sorry," he repeated, equally as wistful. Alexander gave his shoulder a squeeze and gave him a tired half-smile, so he guessed that he was forgiven. Just then, Eliza returned from across the room with a sleeping Maria in her arms, bridal style. 

"Holy shit," he heard Alexander mutter. "Do you lift, or something?" he joked. 

"We all took martial arts for a very long time," she replied with a soft smile. "Well we'll be on our way, now. Goodnight, you two. Alexander, make sure John doesn't die of alcohol poisoning tonight. John, make sure Alexander doesn't have another mother's adrenaline moment." John cheerfully gave her a thumbs-up, and Alexander sighed.

"'Night, Eliza, 'night, Angie. See y'all tomorrow. Make sure Maria doesn't die in the morning. Man, your hangovers are going to be  _awful_."

"Yaaay," John mumbled. "Wait! Maria and I were going to have a sleepover! Alex, can she come over?"

"No," the three answered in unison. 

"Aww." They didn't know where Maria had left her keys, so they opted to just shut the door, leave it unlocked and hope and pray that nobody decided on that night specifically to burgle her. They parted ways, as Alex and John's dorm was on the second floor, but the Schuylers' was on the third, and both boys were silent, except for the dragging of the intoxicated boy's feet and Alexander's habitual stomping. 

"What happened to your forehead?" John asked, breaking the silence. He was referring to the small blossoming bruise on Alexander's forehead. 

"I tripped on your black turtle sweater. Pick your shit up," he answered.

"Oh, says you, Mr. Leaves-Enough-Paper-Around-To-Destroy-Entire-Forests-And-For-Poor-John-To-Drown-In."

Alexander laughed. "Touché." The silence returned for a moment. "Can I tell you something, John?" he asked abruptly. 

"Ofcourse," John slurred with a drunk smile.

"I'm bisexual."

John smiled even wider.

"Cool. I'm gay." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First things first, apologies:   
> I'm sorry if my Spanish/French are bad, I'm not fluent in either—please take up any concerns with google translate 


	8. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John soberly comes out to Alexander and vice versa. John receives an early birthday present and the infamous rainstorm chapter is also included. Also Hercules is the best at cards. (All in John's POV.)

John, unlike usual, remembered the night that he’d been drinking.

Well, some of it. Like, one sentence.

Whenever he drank, he always forgot what happened or what stupid, impulsive or dangerous thing he did, and depended on his friends (or the cops) to fill him in the day after, as he nursed an unforgiving hangover. But not this time.

No, this time, apparently the universe decided, “hm, you know what? I’m bored, so let’s fuck with John Laurens’ sanity and will to live. My favourite pastime.” As a result, he remembered drunkenly leaning into Alexander, as Alex said something muffled, and John caught the word ‘bisexual’. The context in which it was in? He had no idea. And in a brilliant moment of inebriated word association, he slurred, ‘ _cool, I’m gay_ ’.

 _What the literal fuck, Laurens?!_ he inwardly screeched the next morning, as the sunlight attacked him, and he pretended to be asleep for a little while longer. It was partially so he could defend his eyes from the blinding colours that had _no place in the life of a half-dead, hungover man_ , but also because Alexander was sitting in his own bed, typing on his laptop as usual, and pointedly waiting for him to get up.

 _What’s going to happen now? What if he doesn’t accept me? Oh god, it’s going to be South Carolina all over again, isn’t it? He’ll request an immediate roommate switch, and the only time I’ll ever see Alex again is in the coffee shop, but he’ll just glare at me, without so much as a ‘hello’. He’ll tell Laf and Herc, who’ll shun me for the rest of my life, and Maria and the Schuylers will think I’m disgusting, because I just want to put a guy’s dick in my mouth, why can’t I just have that? Why can’t I just have a guy who’s nice to me and will kiss my tears away and won’t want to throw up at the sight of my scars and will fuck me into oblivion? Why is everything so difficult? Why, god o mighty, must you screw with me this way? Why am I the way I am? Why can’t I just have been straight? Everything would have been so much better if I had been straight. Why can’t I ever get what I want? Why_ —

“John? Are you awake?”

_Shit._

“Uh. No.”

Alexander giggled. “Alright, well seeing as you’re up, do you think you’re sober enough to have an intelligent conversation with me? Or should I wait until you can open your eyes without literally hissing at the sun?”

“Nope, I’m good.” He was not good. “W-what’s up?”

 _Please don’t mention me being gay. Please don’t mention me being gay. Please don’t mention me being gay. PLEASE don’t mention_ —

“You, uh,” Alex started, tentatively shutting the lid of his laptop, “told me something last night. Are you _actually_ gay? Or was that just your drunk self spewing off random shit? Because I didn’t exactly get an answer, when I asked if that was true, you kind of fell asleep halfway to the dorm and I lowkey had to drag you back—”

John had stopped listening.

_I’m going to write a book. It’s called, ‘Why I Hate God’._

He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t tell Alexander. Not when he promised himself to protect him... nobody would want to stay with him. He was already a stain on his father’s life, he didn’t want to be the same thing on his friends’.

“John?”

 _Damn it. I could lie. I could lie, tell him I’m straight, but he’d know it was a lie. He would just know. Why can I never get what I want? It’s not fair. It’s not fair_ —

Suddenly, Alexander was kneeling next to his bed with a concerned look on his face. “Hey, hey, breathe, okay? What’s wrong? Are you okay? Do you need anything? Breathe...”

_Why is he telling me to breathe? I am breathing... quickly. Oh._

And he was hyperventilating. _Great start to the goddamn morning._

Alexander climbed into John’s bed with him and enveloped him in his arms, and he held him tight, but not too tight. It was just the right amount. He ran calming circles into his back, and repeated _respira_ until his heart rate was normalled enough for him to be embarrassed.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled defeatedly into Alexander's chest.  _He has a nice chest_.

“No, don’t be sorry,” Alexander replied sweetly. “What happened? Are you okay? Did I overstep any boundaries, or something? I’m sorry if I did, I had no idea sexuality was a sensitive subject. I won’t ask about it again if you’re not comfortable.” _Everybody needs an Alex in their life._

John sighed. He wanted to tell Alex everything... he wanted to tell him who he really was, but he didn’t want the kind light in his friend’s eyes to fade and be replaced with disgust. But that small glimmer of hope that he would accept him... that small glimmer of hope that it would be okay, and he could be himself, openly and freely, it urged him to continue.

“No,” he began unsteadily, “it’s okay. Maybe I should have told you sooner, but you have to promise that if it makes you uncomfortable, _please_ , I’m begging you, don’t tell anyone. Even if it doesn’t, don’t tell anyone.”

Alexander nodded. “You _are_ gay, then?”

John took a deep breath.

“Y-yeah. I am... I’m gay. I-is that—?”

“Why would that make me uncomfortable?”

That simple question ignited far too many answers in far too little time in John’s mind, worsening his headache. He ignored it. “Why... _wouldn’t_ it?”

Alexander huffed a laugh. “John, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with being gay. It’s not exactly a choice, so there’s nothing you can do about it, anyway. Besides, Peggy’s gay. Maria’s gay. Eliza’s bisexual. Laf’s pansexual. Herc’s demisexual. I’m like 90% sure Angelica’s asexual. Literally all your friends are gay. Oh, and I told you yesterday, but I’m assuming you were too drunk to remember, so I’m bisexual, too.”

John froze. His mind, though, did not.

_Holy fucking shit, he’s bi?! Oh my god, how can he just say that so easily? But he’s totally right, why can I accept all of my friends and not myself? Oh my god, I’m a moron. And he’s bi, wow, okay, sure, why not. God, I'm an idiot._

“You’re bi?” he repeated slowly. Alexander smiled and nodded again.

“Yep.”

“When... did you figure it out?”

“Yesterday, officially, thanks to Laf.”

“Wait, you figured it out _yesterday?_ And you’re _already coming out to me_ ?” John asked in disbelief. He’d known he was gay since he was _six_ , and he’s been waiting ever since!

“Why would I bother waiting?” he shrugged with a grin. “I get that it’s different for everybody, but I just wanted to get it out of the way, and I’m pretty happy about being bi. As for yourself, I promise that I won’t tell anybody you’re gay. But y’know, you don’t have to be afraid. You can’t control you you fall in love with, so the best thing to do is just roll with it! I mean, granted, this is coming from me, who’s been subconsciously stifling crushes on any guy I’ve ever liked, because on—er, back where I grew up, bisexuality wasn’t exactly something to be proud of. I’d have been shunned if I’d come out then, which I guess is why I’m so happy to do it now, because I know I’ll be accepted,” he finished with a genuine smile. “If it was the same for you, and South Carolina was a really homophobic place—” _He remembers where I grew up?_ “—then I get why you didn’t want to tell anybody. But you’re not in South Carolina anymore. You’re in New York, and you don’t ever have to go back if you don’t want to.”

 _I can’t go back, even if I did want to._ “You’re so wise, Alexander Hamilton,” John laughed, hanging his head. “I wish someone had told me all that sooner. I really do.”

Alex hugged John for a moment, before pulling back and saying seriously, “I wish someone had, too. You deserve to be happy. Everybody deserves to be happy.”

 _‘Everybody deserves to be happy.’ God, I’m learning more life lessons in one hungover morning than I have in my entire life._ “Thanks. You... you don’t know how much all this means to me.”

Alexander smiled. “I think you should come out. It’d be good for you.”

The idea of coming out to a large group of people terrified John. Usually coming out to _anybody_ terrified him, but something about it being Alexander made him feel safe.

“Yeah... I think I’ll wait a little while, though, and I’ll do it slowly. Just, like, one person at a time,” he answered sheepishly. Alexander did not scoff, like he expected he would.

“Of course! Whatever’s best for you,” he said elatedly.

 _God, you’re wonderful_ . John didn’t say that, though. All he could manage was a smile that wasn’t supposed to be tearful, but he couldn’t help it. He was just so thankful. Alexander had no idea what his words were doing to John—the few sentences he was saying were countering every single homophobic comment he had ever been subjected to, every single homophobic thing he had ever  _heard_. 

John Laurens was determined to protect Alexander, and there was no way in hell he wouldn't.

 

***

 

It was October now, the leaves were changing from green to brown to brilliant oranges and yellows and reds and the weather was becoming crisp. John had always liked the changing of the seasons. It promised new times to come, when nothing else could. Even if some natural disaster hit and killed them all, the leaves would still be there, and the leaves would still change colours in Autumn. Depressing, but inspiring.

Not to mention, John’s birthday was in the Autumn season, too. Not that he had celebrated it since he was eleven, nor did he want to, anymore. Of course when he turned twelve and assumed there was going to be a party, he was distraught to find out there wasn’t. When he turned thirteen, he hoped to at least have a few friends over. When he was fourteen, he gave up hope of celebrating again. He was turning twenty, and didn’t want to have a party. The idea of people getting together just to give _him_ attention had just become sickening.

He didn't tend to tell people when his birthday was as a result of that. If they were close enough to him and knew already, then they were the people who deserved to know about it. John was curious, though, as to whether or not he'd receive any birthday wishes from his family this year. It was his first birthday that he was spending as a disowned kid, after all. But they still knew his number, and he still hoped for a measly call—or even a text—from his siblings. His father probably wouldn't even remember, so he wasn't exactly holding his breath for Henry. But the thought of hearing little Mary Eleanor sing 'happy birthday' over the phone was enough to warm his heart. 

 _Don't get your hopes up, though_ , he reprimanded himself.  _He's probably told them that you're gay by now, and they want nothing to do with you_.

 

John came home from class late on the 24th of October to see Alexander frantically shoving something under his bed, and turned around with the most guilty smile he had ever seen.

“Yo,” he greeted slowly.

“Hi, John!” he greeted awkwardly.

“Uh, what’re you doing?” he asked. “What’s under the bed?”

“Nothing!” Alexander all but yelled hastily.

“Nope, I bet there’s _something_ ,” he smirked. “It’s written all over your face. Also, I literally just saw you put something down there.”

“It’s nothing,” Alexander insisted. “I was just. Uh. Cleaning. I was cleaning.”

“Mhmm,” he said sarcastically, tossing his hoodie haphazardly onto the floor.

“I was! Look at how clean the room looks!”

“I’m looking, it looks exactly the same as it does when I left. Well, besides the sweater,” he chuckled, throwing his messenger bag off of his shoulders and onto his own bed. Alexander grimaced when he did that, because he was always worried about John’s possessions being damaged; John had started doing it less, but it was a bit of a habit. “Aleeeeex, show me what you’re hidiiiiiing!” John sang.

“I’m not hiding _shit_!”

John paused; “Very well. Alex, tell me—are you ticklish?”

Alexander’s eyes widened and the blood drained from his face. “John, please no.”

John approached him, cackling, and Alex looked like he wanted nothing more than to scramble away and burn the building down, he remained rooted to his spot on the floor so he could protect whatever he’d hidden.

“Last chance,” John grinned excitedly as he bent down to Alexander’s level. “Tell me what you’re hiding, or I’ll tickle it out of you.”

Alexander steeled himself. “Do your worst, you fiend,” he hissed.

John rapidly dug his fingers into Alexander’s sides, as the latter screamed and immediately flopped backwards, trying to wrestle his attacker’s hands away. John giggled as Alexander continued to shriek as if he were being stabbed—he was literally the most melodramatic human being on the planet. Well, besides Lafayette.

“Tell me what you’re hiding!” he demanded playfully, but Alexander’s expression would have told him that this was not a game.

“ _Never_!” he cried, unable to stop laughing.

John assailed his friend’s ribs, armpits and neck, effectively causing Alexander a conniption. He continued to screech laughter, but John would not let up. They were both extremely stubborn, so John wouldn’t be surprised if neither of them ever ceded.

After a few minutes of Alexander flailing desperately (nearly kicking John in the face at least eight times), John realized they were both halfway across the room, now far enough away from the bed to give him the opportunity to see what Alexander had hidden. So in a flash, he abandoned the other boy, confused on the floor, and darted back to the bed; John ducked his head so he could get a view of whatever was underneath, when he felt a sudden weight slam down on top of him.

“No!” Alexander yelled, as he attempted to pull John away from the bed. However, unfortunately for Alex, John was bigger than him. “ _Shit_ , why do you weigh so much?!”

“I’m a 5-foot-11, nineteen year old dude, Alex! Yo, is that a _present_ ?” he grinned, looking at the gold foil-wrapped gift under the bed. “Is it for _me_?”

“ _No_! Quit looking!” Alexander whined, tugging urgently.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” John grinned, hoisting himself up on his elbows, rolling Alexander off of him. “That’s totally for me, though, isn’t it? What’s the occasion?”

Alexander stared at him for a moment, and John refused to break eye contact, as if he could find the answer in Alexander’s eyes, before sighing defeatedly. “Fine, yeah, it’s for you. Way to ruin the surprise, asshole. Happy early birthday.”

John couldn't mask his shock, and he grinned sadly. “You didn’t have to get me anything. I’m surprised you even remembered my birthday—or knew it at all. I’m sure I didn’t tell you when it was.”

“Angelica told me,” he admitted. “Also, why wouldn’t I have gotten you anything? It’s your twentieth, and you’re like, my best friend.”

_Oh._

Leave it to Alexander Hamilton to leave John speechless. He couldn’t suppress a dopey grin and nodded dumbly.

“You’re my best friend, too,” he replied. Sure, he had Lafayette and Hercules, but they were closer to each other than he was to them. He had the Schuyler sisters and Maria, but each of their bonds to one another were inseparable and stronger than any other they had. But it just felt that with Alex, they were each other’s favourite. "Really."

When he said that, he didn’t think he’d ever seen Alex smile so wide.

“Well, seeing as you’ve already spoiled it, I’ll just give it to you now,” he said, clearly trying to stop smiling, but couldn’t. The action made John feel warm.

 _He’s so cute_.

Wait.

_SHIT!_

Before he had any time to internally elaborate on such an inappropriate thought, a gold-wrapped box was plunked into his hands.

“Plus, we’re having ‘a moment’,” Alexander joked, “so what better time than now, anyway?” _STOP THIS. STOP BEING CUTE. STOP IT._ “Open it,” he urged politely, when all John could do was dart his gaze back from Alexander to the gift over and over again in disbelief.

Wordlessly, John began unwrapping the gold foil as carefully as he could, until Alexander got impatient and asked him nicely to “ _hurry the fuck up_ ”. When he was done, all that remained was a plain brown box in his hands, lacking any signature or logo.

He looked at his friend for permission, and Alexander gave him a look that asked _why the hell are you asking me for permission?_ John removed the lid, and let out an audible gasp. For inside the box, was all of the drawings he had thrown in the garbage when Alexander first moved in, with sticky notes attached to each one and heartfelt notes written on every one. They were still all a little crumpled, but he had obviously tried to smooth them out.

He delicately reached in and picked up the one he’d done of a turtle—it was semi-realistic, with its long neck peeking out from its detailed shell and feet that honestly looked like paws, now that he was looking at it again. He didn’t like it, but the note read _Really good shading!_ and some other comments on how good it looked and what Alexander liked about it. The turtle suddenly looked a lot better.

He placed it on the floor, avoiding Alexander’s gaze, and the next drawing on the pile was one he had done of Eliza and Angelica—it was sometime during the summer when they were visiting South Carolina. Peggy was off somewhere with their father, and later complained that she hadn’t been in the drawing, so John had to draw one of her by herself, which she kept. In this drawing, Angelica was smiling fondly at Eliza, who was gesturing to a book and talking avidly. They really did love each other more than anything in this life.

He silently looked through a few more, never once making eye contact with Alexander, who was unusually quiet. When he got nearer to the bottom, the drawing of his mother finally made the tears spill.

She was a beautiful Puerto Rican woman with straight brown hair, devoid of any curls and hazel-green eyes that she passed onto him, and only him among the other Laurens children. He often sketched her in a panic if he caught himself forgetting even the slightest detail of her face. He rubbed the tears away, but they kept coming.

“I know I’m not a very good art critic, but I just wanted to tell you how great your drawings were, and I didn’t understand why you’d want to throw them out,” Alexander blurted out suddenly, cutting off John’s train of thought. He sounded nervous. “Oh, uh, and there’s an actual present underneath the drawings, too.” If he noticed John was crying, he didn’t say anything.

John, still silent, looked back down, to see a simple sketchbook and a set of drawing pencils. He put the box down so he could inspect the book with care. It was quaint and older-looking, with a hardcover and unusual design. He palmed through the pages, and if there was one thing John loved, it was the smell of a new book. The paper was pristine and sleek and _perfect_ . And as if the sentiment of Alexander _keeping the drawings he tried to get rid of_ and the beautiful sketchbook wasn’t enough, he noticed there was a handwritten letter at the very end;

 _John_ , it read, in graceful hand.

_Thank you so much for giving me the honour of calling me your friend. We haven’t known each other long, but I find it incredible how college teaches you that someone you only met recently can care about you more than people you’ve known your whole life. You’re a wonderful person and friend, and I look forward to creating more memories with you._

_Alexander_

He was absolutely fucking sobbing at this point. John threw himself at Alexander, who was too shocked to catch them both, and they toppled over. John was crying into his neck, mumbling _thank you_ s like a prayer, and Alexander was smiling relievedly.

“I take it you liked it?” he asked hopefully.

“'Liked' is an understatement,” he responded with a teary smile. “I can’t believe you kept all those drawings. I can’t believe you _went through the trash_ to keep those drawings.”

“Hey! It’s the thought that counts, doesn’t it?”

John couldn’t stop smiling. He didn’t care if he was being overly affectionate, he squeezed Alexander tight in his arms. “Thank you,” he whispered.

“Not a bother,” Alexander replied. “Like I said—you’re my best friend. By the way, there is another thing—”

“Why did you get me so many things!”

“—but it’s due to come in the mail in another week or so.”

John sighed happily. “It’s not even my birthday yet and it’s already the best birthday I’ve ever had.”

 

***

 

“Damn!” John hissed.

The rain was pouring outside of the library windows—lightning flashed menacingly in the dark clouds above, and thunder growled. John, Lafayette and Hercules were playing cards instead of working; they had invited Alex, but he insisted that he _actually_ get work done and stay behind.

Lafayette laughed triumphantly as he threw down his last card. “John’s the chump!” Hercules had rid himself of his deck a few turns ago, and now Lafayette had none left, either, which meant John lost.

“Man, fuck you guys, you’re both dead to me,” he grumbled, disappointed that he hadn't won a single game.

“ _Finally_ , we’ve been trying to get rid of you for ages,” Hercules teased.

“We don’t need you, anyway,” Lafayette added, theatrically attaching himself to Hercules’ arm with a smirk. “ _Va-t'en, sale bâtard._ ”

“Hercules, your boyfriend is being mean to me,” John whined, pointedly grinning when they both went red within seconds, hissing insults at him and things along the line of ‘he’s not my boyfriend!”. He couldn’t hold back a barking laugh when Lafayette squawked “ _I’m gonna skin you_!”, which caused a disgruntled librarian to chastise them for being too loud.

“Want to do another round?” Hercules offered sweetly, masking the pure evil in his sentence, obviously knowing that he was going to crush them both again, as he had every single time they’d played (currently and on previous occasions). Lafayette was quick to agree, but John shook his head.

“No thanks, dude. I think I’m gonna head back to my dorm, see what Alex is up to. He’s nicer to me than you meanies,” he said, as Lafayette exaggeratedly threw his hand to his heart and gasped loudly, accidentally falling off the chair in the process.

“You’re gonna get drenched, John!” Hercules said worriedly, as thunder rumbled outside. “Or struck by lightning!”

“That would be just my luck, wouldn’t it? Well, you guys are gonna have to leave, eventually, too.”

“And I really liked this sweater, too!” Lafayette whined.

“It’s not going to be _ruined_ , it’ll just be wet.”

“Water wrecks clothes, Mulligan!” he countered.

“Fine, we can just wait the rain out.”

John started collecting his things, stuffing them deep into his backpack as if that would help protect them from the rain. He’d get soaked, but risking his laptop was _not_ worth him staying warm for a few minutes, so he shoved his coat inside, too.

Lafayette and Hercules continued to bicker until John stood up miserably.

“This rain’s only gonna get worse, I just checked the forecast, so waiting it out is futile. Y’all might wanna leave soon, too. There might be a blackout, with the lightning, and all.” The two scrambled to gather their possessions as John bid them short goodbyes and made his way over to the exit.

It was only a few minutes’ walk to the dormitories from the library, but if he ran, maybe he could cut it down to one minute... well, fuck it, he’s getting wet, anyway. He sprinted out and across campus, his shoes sinking into the mud and making gross _squelching_ noises whenever he was unlucky enough to step onto the grass. It was hard to see through the thick rain, and being without his sweater left him in nothing but a t-shirt. Needless to say, it was inconvenient as hell.

When he finally made it back to the dorm building, the receptionist (not Peggy, but a different kid) glared daggers at him for tracking mud inside. He shrugged in response before making his way up the stairs, ignoring the testy grumbling from the receptionist.

His socks were obnoxiously wet inside his shoes, and every step with them drained his resolve for existence further.

“Fuck rain,” he snarled as he unlocked his dorm room and pushed open the door. He toed off his shoes, and stripped himself of his socks, looking forward to changing to warm pyjamas and fixing up some delicious hot chocolate for himself and Alex.

Speaking of Alex, where was the motherfucker? He wasn’t feverishly typing at his computer, which was what John expected he would be doing.

“Alex?” John called. Nobody replied. "Did he go out somewhere...?" 

Suddenly, he heard a whimper come from under Alexander’s bed. _The fuck?_ He gingerly padded his way over to the other boy’s bed and sank down to his knees so he could peer underneath it.

He was surprised, but also relieved when he saw his roommate curled up in the darkness—had it been a small animal or something, he might have been forced to burn the entire building down.

“Alex, what are you doing under the bed?” he laughed. He stopped smiling when Alexander didn’t answer, and John realized he was shaking and whining as if he were a wounded dog. “Alexander?! Are you okay?!”

Alexander continued not to answer; his face was buried in his trembling hands and muffled sobs, so John couldn’t see his expression; he guessed it would look frightened. John didn’t know what to do—it looked like a panic attack to him, but what would drive him to hide under his bed, if that were the case? It wasn’t like Alex was in any state to answer him, though...

“Alexander,” John persisted. He whispered Alex’s name more times than he could count. Alexander continued to cry. It hurt John so deeply to see him so defenceless and vulnerable. Suddenly, there was a loud crack of thunder, and he screamed.

“NO! NO, NO, NO, JAMES! _MAMA_ ! _NO_!”

John couldn’t just whisper pathetically, anymore. He understood what was going on.

“Is it the rain, Alex?” he asked carefully, but desperately. “Alexander, I’m going to touch you, is that okay?” He was again greeted with weeping. John delicately reached out and placed his hand on his friend’s shoulder, who responded by convulsing abruptly and scurrying as far away from his touch as possible, as if he’d just been burned. His head shot up from out of his hands simultaneously to stare down whoever had dared to touch him, and his face made _John_ want to cry. His eyes were red, blotchy and horrified, there were tear tracks covering his cheeks and his lips were parted, as if he were readying himself to scream again.  

“J-John,” he rasped, as another roar of thunder filled the room, as the lights flickered for a brief moment. Another scream. His poor voice was hoarse-sounding, likely because he’d been screaming since the beginning of the storm, which started, maybe an hour or two ago, if John were to guess?

"I’m going to protect you, Alexander. I’ll protect you." John was speaking without inhibition.

Alexander raised his head and peered at John out from under the bed with teary eyes. “S-say that again...”

John offered his hand to the boy curled up in the darkness and determinedly whispered, “I’ll protect you.”

He hesitated before tentatively taking John’s outstretched hand and allowed himself to be gently pulled from his hiding place. The amount of trembling he was still doing and the accelerated rate of his heartbeat concerned John, who as soon as he had him in his arms, didn’t let Alex go. He held him tight, as he trembled in his arms on the floor, sobbing into his shoulder every time lightning flashed overhead. He rubbed soothing circles into Alexander’s back, and mumbled into his hair, _I’ll protect you, I’ve got you, it’s okay_ , every so often.

 

An hour of delicate whispering and crying passed before John had the courage to ask if he could move them to the bed, so they could be more comfortable, to which Alexander shakingly complied.

“Do you want me to make you some tea?” he asked him at some point. Alex shook his head vigorously and clung to John tighter.

“No. Don’t go,” he answered, his voice weak and cracking.

“Okay. I’m not going anywhere.”

“ _Por favor protégeme, John_...”

“ _Por supuesto. Siempre te protegeré. Está bien. Estamos a salvo._ ”

 

Two hours passed since John found Alex under the bed. His heart was still beating faster than normal, but John was lulling him to sleep with a lullaby his mother used to sing for him.

“ _We may not yet have reached our glory... but I will gladly join the fight. And when our children tell their story, they’ll tell the story of toniiiight... they’ll tell the story of tonight. Toniiiight..._ ”

He ran his nimble fingers through his friend’s inky black hair and appreciated how soft it was. Alexander cosied up to his touch.

“ _Have you ever felt like nobody was there? Have you ever felt forgotten, in the middle of no air? Have you ever felt like youuu could disappear? Like you could fall, and no one would hear..._ ”

John was a good singer. He’d never found the confidence to sing to anybody, usually unless he was drunk or stoned. When people were panicking was an exception, though—he used to sing to his sister Martha when she was stressing about school or something. He sung to Mary Eleanor to help her fall asleep; James and Junior thought they were ‘too big for lullabies!’ but certainly didn’t complain for long when his ariose voice filled the room. He sung with his mother, sometimes, too. His father disapproved of his singing.

“ _Well... let that lonely feeling wash away... ‘cause maybe there’s a reason to believe you’ll be okay. ‘Cause when you don’t feel strong enough to stand, you can reach_ — _reach out your hand_.”

The other boy’s breathing was beginning to even, and John couldn’t help but smile through the melody. His eyes fluttered shut, as the rain was letting up; he didn’t even notice.

“ _And oh, raise a glass to freedom... something they can never take away, no matter what they tell youuuu... someone will come running, to take you home. Raise a glass to all of us, tomorrow there’ll be more of us. Telling the story of tonight..._ ”

John hadn’t sung this song to anyone since his mother. How did he remember all the words perfectly after eight years? He didn’t know... they were basically burned into his mind. It _was_ an important song. It was his mother’s favourite song.

“ _Out of the shadows, the morning is breaking and all is new, all is new! All is new_ — _it’s only a matter of tiiiiime... Even when the dark comes crashing through, when you need a friend to carry you, and when you’re broken on the ground... you will be found_.”

Something about it being his mother’s favourite song made it John’s favourite song, and he was glad to share it with his best friend.

“ _So let the sun come streaming in, ‘cause you’ll reach up and you’ll rise again, if you only look around_ — _you will be found_.”

Alexander was a different kind of friend than Lafayette and Hercules. They were there to support him and listen to his problems, should he confide in them, and offer advice. Alexander was a different kind of friend Eliza, Peggy, Maria and Angelica. They were there to be his shoulder to cry on, should he accept their help, and would offer their time and reassurance. But Alexander was a different kind of help... John never saw the pity in his eyes. In its place, he saw recognition. Alex understood travesty. They understood each other. And although it was unspoken, Alexander noticed the same thing in John’s eyes.

Alexander sniffled, and opened his eyes.

“You stopped singing,” he mumbled.

“I thought you were asleep,” John countered with a smile.

“Well I’m not. Keep going,” Alex said, flopping back down into his lap. John smiled again and wrapped his arms around him.

“Why do you want to listen to me sing?”

“It’s beautiful.”

John's cheeks warmed at the compliment, so he finished the song for Alexander, who had  _actually_ fallen asleep by the end. He truly looked exhausted. The bags under his eyes were dark enough to be mistaken for bruises, and his bottom lip quivered with every exhalation. He was just... so  _vulnerable_ and small in John's arms, and he revelled in that fact 

_Look, Mom. I'm protecting him. I'm protecting my Alexander._

_..."my" Alexander?!_

_What the fuck, John Laurens? He's not_ your  _anything! Stop being weird!_ he chastised himself inwardly, as his face flushed red.  _It's a good thing he's asleep_. 

John shifted so he could try and get up and get ready for bed, but Alexander let out a small, sleepy whine in his lap. Not willing to risk disturbing him, John just decided to lay down, and fall asleep like that. It wasn't weird, surely—they were just two best friends cuddling after a rainstorm. He really tried to stop smiling like an idiot, and couldn't stop his heart from fluttering happily. Perhaps this was what he'd been missing out on his whole life. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The card game John, Lafayette and Hercules are playing is Chump, and it's a lot of fun. The song John was singing to Alexander was "Found Tonight" by Ben Platt and Lin-Manuel Miranda (HIGHLY RECOMMENDED IF YOU HAVEN'T LISTENED TO IT. But let's be honest, everybody in both the DEH and Hamilton fandom has listened and cried to it at least four times).  
> This chapter is basically dedicated to John and Alexander kind of letting their walls down between each other, and they grow closer ;)) Also, John's birthday will also probably be in the next chapter. And everybody may be wondering how many chapters I'm going to write before Never Solivagant is complete, and the answer to that, if I were to guess, maybe around fifteen or twenty? I'm not sure, tbh, that's just a ballpark figure.  
> On another note, I can't believe this thing is almost at 300 views?? I know that doesn't seem like a lot in contrast to the millions of people using this website, but if I tried to fit 300 people in my backyard, it would be cramped as hell. Thank you so much for comments and kudos, really anything makes me so happy! I'll see if I can update sooner, thank you all so much for waiting!  
> I haven't turned in a geography assignment for like, three weeks. Dear god.  
> Stay flamin', y'all ;DD  
> -Blue


	9. AUTHOR'S NOTE

Hey everyone! I'm really sorry I haven't been able to update lately, a lot's been going on and my head's all over the place... I'm going to try and get as much done as I can before exams, and hopefully the summer break will give me ample time to post more often! Thanks again for following my story so far, and I have a lot of ideas for future plot! I'll be back on as soon as I can, thank you so much for waiting! Again, I live and breath for comments and kudos, so thank you so much for those as well!

Love you guys!

-Blue


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